


Snow White Queen outtakes

by MorsXmordrE



Series: Daughters of Darkness, Sisters Insane [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, BDSM Scene, Blood Kink, Death Eaters, Denial of Feelings, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Friendship, Invasion of Privacy, Loss of Virginity, Mentor Voldemort (Harry Potter), Mentor/Protégé, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV First Person, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Psychology, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Psychopaths In Love, Slice of Life, Strong Female Characters, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, Torture, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 36
Words: 118,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorsXmordrE/pseuds/MorsXmordrE
Summary: A series of deleted scenes and alternate beginnings, some of which overlap between SWQ and the prequel.
Relationships: Tom Riddle | Voldemort/Original Female Character(s), Tom Riddle/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Daughters of Darkness, Sisters Insane [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1050833
Comments: 56
Kudos: 69





	1. Alternate Beginning 1 | Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own no copyrights of any concepts in the Harry Potter universe, and I make no money from these writings. My stories are for entertainment only.
> 
> *** The outtakes contain five alternate beginnings, one chapter divergence, and eight deleted scenes.
> 
> ~
> 
> *** Alternate Beginning 1 starts near the end of Alex’s sixth year. Instead of imagining writing to her, Tom actually does send her a letter and then begins teaching her the Dark Arts for several months—along with other, um, skills.
> 
> This is a six-chapter piece that overlaps the end of the prequel through Chapter 5 of SWQ.

Owls flew through the Great Hall, delivering mail as they did each morning. I received my weekly letter from my parents, and prepared to drop it into my cauldron before another letter fell into my lap. I looked up to see an unfamiliar owl taking off—but given the cacophony of squawks and flying feathers, no one else could tell that something was amiss.

Though the envelope looked normal, I didn’t feel comfortable opening it at the table. Secretive as I was, I didn’t want to attract attention by reacting strangely if the contents of the letter were undesirable.

_Open alone._

The words were scrawled in an elegant script on the back of the envelope—and I somehow kept my face in neutral while reading them. No one even noticed me sliding both unopened letters into my cauldron without a word. Though my heart was racing, I couldn’t share my anxiety with the Housemates I didn’t trust. Most sixteen-year-olds were loathe to keep secrets, anyway. Especially secrets about people they didn’t like.

* * *

Classes dragged on that day, seeming to take twice as long as normal. Why did time always slow down when I was impatient for something? It seemed so unfair.

I paid attention to my professors as best I could, but my mind kept wandering back to the mystery letter now tucked into my pillowcase for me to read before going to sleep. It was a busy day, with double Potions preventing us from having any breathing room before lunch, and I’d barely had time to dash down to the Slytherin dungeons to deposit my mail before wolfing down a turkey sandwich and heading to my afternoon classes.

It was all I could do to act normal as my Housemates and I finally retired for the evening. Time seemed to slow even more during these last few minutes of the day, and it was hard not to shake in anticipation.

_Who is writing to me?_ I wondered as I climbed into bed and drew my curtains closed. _Why didn’t they want me to open their letter in public? Is something wrong? Who do I know, that would want me to keep a secret?_ Apart from my best friend, I couldn’t think of anyone who would bestow upon me knowledge so critical that they’d need to write me a secret letter.

My hands trembled as I took a deep breath and gingerly opened the envelope, careful to keep quiet so as not to draw my Housemates’ attention.

I withdrew a single piece of parchment. In the same elegant handwriting I’d read that morning, I now read a message that made my stomach drop.

_Miss Halaway,_

_I am the person you’ve been secretly researching. I want to meet you as much as you want to meet me. Be outside the Hogsmeade entrance at 10:30 this Tuesday evening, under your cloak, and I will explain everything I want from you. Do not be late._

My heart thumped wildly as I gripped the bed covers. There was _no way_ this was real. How would Lord Voldemort have ever found out that I existed? And why would he have any interest in meeting me? I was supposed to initiate contact with him; not the other way around.

It had to be a prank. Or a plot for revenge. An enemy had discovered my secret—using my stolen invisibility cloak to sneak Dark Arts books out of the Restricted Section—and was trying to blackmail me. This person would likely be waiting at the Hogsmeade entrance, as stated in the letter, or aiming to catch me on my way out of the castle.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as the heavy weight of failure settled over my body, threatening to suffocate me. I had tried _so_ hard to keep my activities secret. All I’d wanted to do was learn, damn it! I wasn’t hurting anyone! (Not yet, anyway; but that was beside the point. Simply reading should not be a crime.)

I was so naïve to have felt smug and triumphant for carrying out this secret research project; I must have gotten sloppy and overly confident during the past few months. Now, I was racking my brain, trying to think of who could possibly have figured me out. A few suspects came to mind, but no one seemed interested enough in harming me to obsessively follow my movements and therefore discover my late-night forays into the library.

And then a small voice whispered deep inside me: _But what if it’s_ not _a prank? What if it really_ is _him?_

If Voldemort had written to me, and I didn’t show up out of fear that a classmate was trying to humiliate me, then all my Dark Arts research would have been for nothing. A golden opportunity to prove myself, likely requiring much less effort than I’d anticipated, would crash and burn. Maybe he would even hunt me down and kill me. If he could find me at Hogwarts and discover my secret without even setting foot on the castle grounds, there was no limit to what else he could do.

And if it _was_ a trick—well, god damn it, I knew some nasty curses. I chastised myself for having allowed myself to think like a victim, when such a skirmish could be a perfect time for me to stand up for myself and send my enemies a message. I flashed back to all the scrapes I’d gotten into during my first year—one of which had earned me a Howler from my mother, after I’d sent a bully to the hospital wing. If I could handle that, then I could stand up to some imbecile who was probably jealous of my ambition and nerve. Who else possessed the courage to sneak into the Restricted Section, and the stealth to avoid detection? If I put my adversaries in their place, they wouldn’t dare intervene with my activities anymore.

I could do this. Too much was at stake to risk being a coward.

Tuesday was four days away, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted the time to pass quickly or not.

* * *

I barely ate dinner on Tuesday night. Knowing that I couldn’t appear nervous in front of everyone, especially if an enemy was watching me, I kept my face relaxed and ate as slowly as normal behavior would allow. Even though I only finished half my plate of food, I figured I didn’t look too conspicuous—I could barely eat when I was stressed. And, unfortunately, I was stressed quite often.

Everyone was typically asleep by 10pm on weekdays, so it wasn’t difficult for me to slip under my cloak and out of the castle. Still, my heart was thumping as I prepared to leave. I tried thinking of this venture as simply another routine event, like going to the library in the middle of the night, but my nerves kicked in as soon as I slipped through the front door of the school. The Prefects on patrol duty were near the Entrance Hall, and so I’d had to wait a few minutes before leaving, but I successfully exited the school once my classmates were out of sight. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as I walked down the path leading away from the castle and toward Hogsmeade Village.

I walked around the area for a few minutes. If enemies were hiding, I needed to know exactly where; I couldn’t afford to be a sitting target.

Surprisingly, no one was waiting for me outside the deserted entryway, even in the bushes, so I deemed it safe to remove my cloak. I wasn’t sure if Voldemort—or a prankster—could see through invisibility cloaks; and I also didn’t want to have both hands occupied if an enemy came at me with their wand extended. I cautiously folded my cloak under my left arm, before patting my wand inside my robes for reassurance.

“Evening, Miss Halaway.”

The greeting startled me. I had been expecting to see someone walk toward me; not hear a disembodied voice come from out of nowhere. A very powerful, resonant, adult male voice I had never heard before. The speaker commanded authority.

This was no student playing a prank. _Was it really HIM?_

“Where are you?” I whispered. I frantically looked around, trying not to tremble. Though I could see no one nearby, I did hear soft footsteps in the grass. Was this man wearing an invisibility cloak as well? What were the odds?

I gasped as two hands grabbed my shoulders. “Right here,” the voice murmured in my ear.

Before I could even open my mouth to respond, I felt the most bizarre sensation: I was sucked into a tight vortex, spinning me around and sucking the air from my lungs. I could neither move, speak, nor breathe.

And then my feet touched stone. _Where am I? How did—_

Firm, cold hands cupped my cheeks and forced my face upward. And I could finally see the mystery man, who truly had never been a mystery at all. All along, I had known deep down that he really _had_ written to me; I’d simply been too afraid to believe it. Such fortune had seemed too good to be true.

“Alex Halaway,” the Dark Lord pronounced slowly, smirking down at me. “What a pleasure this is.”

I opened my mouth, but could form no words. Where was all my preparation? What had happened to all the conversations with him I had rehearsed inside my head? Why was I gaping like a fish out of water? God, I must have looked so ridiculous.

“And thank you for your punctuality—” My lower lip quivered as he tucked a lock of hair behind my left ear. “—not that I expected anything less, of course.”

He took his hands off my face, but he was still standing quite close.

My eyes dropped to the floor as I bowed my head—as a gesture of deference, and to hide my embarrassing facial expression. I hadn’t the faintest idea why he was touching me, and using such affectionate gestures, but perhaps such behavior was part of his modus operandi: unnerving and confusing people to make sure they knew he was in charge.

He tilted my chin up and looked at me quizzically. “Tell me, Miss Halaway, do you not speak?”

A cross between a sigh and a grunt escaped my lips, mortifying me further before I finally found my voice.

“I’m sorry, my Lord, I mean no disrespect,” I mumbled quickly, the words tumbling out of my mouth. “It’s just...” _Slow down, Alex. Slow. Down. Don’t make a fool of yourself._ “I don’t like to speak unless I have something important to say; and right now, I don’t know _what_ to say. My head is spinning.”

“I see.” He removed his hand from my person and smoothed over his robes. “Well, it’s about to spin some more because we’re Apparating a second time. I brought you to this intermediary location first, to gauge your reaction to me.”

“Where are we?”

“My initiation room. This is where I summon my Death Eaters to witness an induction into the ranks.”

_Would I ever be here again, for such a purpose?_

I dare not voice my thoughts aloud. Voldemort could have had any number of reasons for summoning me, and I didn’t want to put the cart before the horse.

He grabbed my shoulders again, and the oxygen-sucking vortex enveloped us once more. We landed in a gigantic library. I looked around, smiling through my confusion and anxiety. The hall was gorgeous.

The Dark Lord took a step closer, and I involuntarily took a step backward—and my shoulders hit a bookshelf jutting out from the wall. There appeared to be many of those, I now saw, forming a multitude of passageways throughout the library. I wondered how many people had gotten lost in here.

“You’ve never Apparated before, have you,” he remarked.

I shook my head.

“You’re quite good at it.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” I whispered, staring at my feet. Looking at him and his penetrating stare was too nerve-wracking. I could feel him watching me silently, seemingly daring me to speak. I couldn’t.

“So,” he drawled, resting his hands on the shelf behind me to box me in. “Nothing important to say? What rubbish. Surely, you must be _bursting_ with questions.” He stepped in even closer and lowered his voice. “Talk to me.”

I inhaled slowly and made myself look into his dark eyes, trying not to appear as frightened as I felt. At least he didn’t look angry; merely curious about what I would say. I couldn’t affort to remain silent any longer.

“Okay,” I sighed shakily, before taking another deep breath. And then the words just ruptured forth.

“Where am I...why am I here...how do you know who I am...how do you know I’ve been researching you? Is someone watching me at Hogwarts and telling you what I’m doing...am I not being as careful as I thought I was? What do you want from me? Why am I—am I in danger....?”

He smiled broadly. “That’s more like it.”

I sagged against the bookcase, relieved to have finally voiced my whirring thoughts. He appraised me for another moment before responding.

“Firstly—and most importantly—you are in no danger. In fact, as long as you obey me, you are much safer here with me than you are at Hogwarts.”

My eyes widened. “How? What is this place?”

“This is my home.”

“You live here?” I gasped, looking around again. “All these books are yours?!”

“Yes, Alex,” he chuckled. “Everything here belongs to me. You may read any and every book here that strikes your fancy; but not now. There are more important matters at hand.”

“Like what?”

“I am about to explain. I will answer some of your questions tonight; but for others, you’ll have to wait until a more appropriate time.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

I nodded and dropped my eyes to the floor. “Okay. So...why am I here? Can you tell me that now?”

“You are here to learn the Dark Arts. Assuming you work hard and master these skills in a timely fashion, I will initiate you as a Death Eater when you turn seventeen.”

My hands flew to my mouth as I inhaled sharply, unable to believe what I’d just heard.

“I understand that you have been researching the discipline for quite some time now, which is lovely; but now you must learn through practice. You cannot serve me properly through reading alone. I will be teaching you here.”

“Wow...I—”

“I will be bringing you here two nights per week, for two hours each. During the first hour and a half, I will teach you various spells and potions and the like. And then, in the time remaining, we will go over your notes.”

“My notes?”

“The notes you’ve been taking from the Dark Arts books you’re studying at Hogwarts.”

All the heat fled my face. “How do you know that I’ve been—”

“Another time.” He held up his hand to silence me.

I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to ground myself. Succumbing to terror would not help me think clearly.

“Now, I understand that you are approaching your seventh year at Hogwarts, and therefore you will soon begin preparing for NEWT examinations. As such, I cannot monopolize your time without impacting your schooling. I’d bring you here more than twice a week, but—”

“If...if it weren’t for my exams, how often would you bring me here? Forgive me for interrupting; I was merely curious.”

“Oh, Alex, I would bring you here every night if I could; but such a task would be impossible. You must prioritize your studies. Be that as it may, I do believe that twice weekly sessions will be sufficient. So, let’s get started.”


	2. Alternate Beginning 1 | Chapter 2

I snuck away from Hogwarts for my secret lessons twice a week until the end of term. There was no schedule; we always met on different days and at various times, so as not to create a routine that someone could pick up on. Such was a smart plan, and I always looked forward to the new skills I would be learning each week.

Rebel that I was, I also couldn’t help but feel smug over my ability to sneak around, Apparating to and from Hogsmeade under my cloak, with Voldemort under a Disillusionment Charm so he wouldn’t be seen in public.

It wasn’t just the stealthy rule-breaking that excited me, though—it was that the Dark Lord had actively sought me out, above all the other Hogwarts students, to take under his wing. I figured that anyone else wanting to learn from him would have to first prove their value as a Death Eater and then hope that Voldemort would express interest in teaching them privately. Most would not be so lucky.

After all the time and effort I’d dedicated to my research, it appeared that I was finally tasting the fruits of my labor. Such a privilege was quite thrilling.

As exciting as they were, these training sessions were not all fun and games. I relished learning the Dark Arts from the most knowledgable source, but being around him still made me nervous. He was everything I had expected him to be, and yet also the polar opposite—his pedagogical tendencies were obviously evident, as was his infatuation with the Dark Arts; but he was also not as detached as I’d anticipated.

Our lessons took place in a hidden underground hall behind his library. It took about a minute to walk through the long tunnel leading to the chamber entrance, and he would ask me ordinary questions on the way there. It caught me off-guard the first time he asked me, “How was your weekend?” on a Monday night. Such everyday pleasantries did not become a regular occurrence, but I still found the queries strange. Out of character. I’d never imagined his desire for social interaction extending beyond purposeful conversation.

He also occasionally asked me about my daily life at Hogwarts. I found it hard to believe that he’d actually enjoy normal discussions with me—or anyone—but I still told him about my classes and social issues when he asked such questions. In a way, it felt nice, given how indifferent my peers often acted toward me; but these interactions still confused me. Especially when he’d touch my arm or squeeze my shoulder for emphasis while speaking. I wasn’t sure what to make of this.

I’d imagined learning the Dark Arts from him after becoming a Death Eater, but I hadn’t expected him to show any further interest in my presence.

Perhaps it wasn’t _me_ that he found curious, but more a nostalgia for the school he could no longer visit? He was likely trying to relive his own Hogwarts experiences through me, as he had no other way of doing so. From reading about him and his history, I’d gathered that he had developed an unusual fondness for the school—nothing I would ever dare ask him about—but I was happy to satisfy him in such a venture.

I found myself relaxing around him ever so slightly as time went on. It was easier to see him as a person, instead of an all-powerful godlike being, when I could speak to him about normal things.

By the time the school year finished, the Dark Lord had taught me several spells, charms, and potions that could send any aggressors running. I didn’t know if I’d need my new arsenal while still at school, but it was gratifying to know that I had the option.

“Look over your notes this summer, since you won’t be able to practice what I’ve taught you,” he told me after our last session. “I will owl you at the start of term to resume our lessons.”

“Okay. And—thank you, my Lord.”

“For what?”

“For teaching me all of this. I—I never thought you’d be interested in helping me until you contacted me a few months ago. So...thanks. It’s...it’s really—”

“No need to thank me. You have enormous potential and I would be a fool to let it go to waste. You will make an admirable Death Eater one day.”

I bowed my head and thanked him again before he took me back to Hogsmeade. “Enjoy your summer,” he said softly, squeezing my shoulders before Disapparating.

I couldn’t help but grin as I slinked off back to school; I had learned a lot more than I’d planned this term.

* * *

The summer dragged on sluggishly; it was hard for me to enjoy time spent with people I couldn’t relate to. People who had no interest in validating me without expecting a pat on the back for their efforts to _not_ mistreat me.

Not to say that _I_ didn’t want a pat on the back for _my_ efforts—my efforts at mirroring their values and convincing them that I was _finally growing up! Oh, what a bloody spectacle this is!_ It really was absurd.

At least I could take comfort in my successful mimicking skills; they would surely serve me well later.

My parents forced me into a conversation about job hunting shortly before I returned to Hogwarts. I couldn’t fault them for that; it was a perfectly normal conversation for parents to initiate with their almost-adult children. However, they seemed to care more about telling me to mind my manners than actually talking about the job-seeking process. I was almost seventeen and they were treating me like my common sense was that of a seven-year-old’s. Merlin, if I had a Galleon for every time they insulted my intelligence....

I somehow buried my rage and fake-smiled my way through the conversation. Perhaps it was easier because I already knew I’d become a Death Eater soon, and so I had more of a solid plan than most people my age; this allowed me to have a stress reliever in the back of my mind. The knowledge grounded me.

Still, it was hard not to slap my mother near the end of the discussion—so _touched_ was she that her belligerent child was _finally_ maturing, that she could hardly keep the tears of relief from seeping out! It baffled me how incompetent they still thought I was, even after all I’d been through. Crying because I could actually engage in an adult conversation without throwing a tantrum? Not a big deal, lady. Maybe if she and my father had raised me with just a hint of human decency and showed confidence in my abilities, this interaction wouldn’t have choked her up so much. Their ignorance was beyond pathetic.

I cared for my family less and less as I got older, realizing that virtually everything they’d ever taught me was wrong. They had set me up for failure. Their narrow-mindedness prevented them from loving unconditionally, which had led me to not even value the concept of love that much; I was more interested in security and respect, in whatever form that took. That was why I insulated myself with shallow friendships at school, lying to my peers about my true nature to shield myself from scorn. My chameleonic behavior was obviously working, as I felt loads safer at school now than I did as a younger-year, when I’d been bullied constantly and then punished for retaliating.

_You are much safer here with me than you are at Hogwarts._

I bit my lip as Voldemort’s words flashed through my mind. His estate was impenetrable; not even the Trace worked there, hence my ability to perform magic outside of Hogwarts and remain undetected. That knowledge, coupled with the Dark Lord’s enthusiasm for teaching, _had_ made me feel safe. Worthy. Important. The love, or something akin to love, that my parents showed me, fell short in comparison.

I knew the Dark Lord to be incapable of love—not that I would have cared either way—but he certainly seemed...protective. During our lessons, he often taught me enchantments to help shield me from discovery, should I ever have to escape a battle on my own. It wasn’t simply a matter of teaching me Dark spells; he wanted me safe from harm. With the way he spoke about the importance of protecting myself, it appeared that he almost valued me as a person as much as he valued my ability to serve him. I wasn’t sure if that was simply part of his act—his charm and persuasiveness through which he convinced people to do his bidding—but he definitely _seemed_ sincere.

That was probably wishful thinking on my part, though. I warned myself not to succumb to conjuring watered-down images of this man; I knew who he was. I knew what he was capable of. Just because I had gotten a bit more comfortable around him, and he enjoyed my presence as a student, didn’t mean that he actually _cared_ about me. If I were to die in a battle, he’d likely be angrier than sad, having lost one of his favorite soldiers.

_Why did I just think I’d be one of his favorites? He’s teaching me because he sees my potential in the Dark Arts, which makes me useful to him; not because he—_

He what?

Were those occasional touches really a calculated power play, or were they—no. They were nothing. All the Dark Lord wanted was power and vicious Death Eaters to do his bidding. I’d always felt smug at the thought of proving myself to him, and earning status in that niche of the magical world, but I’d never considered interacting with Voldemort outside of following his orders. It had never occurred to me that he might find me more than useful; but perhaps he did, given his efforts in contacting me at school.

Had he ever written to other prospective Death Eaters and brought them home for training? Was that how he recruited—in secret? Did he seek out students who seemed cold-blooded and powerful, or gullible and eager to please? How did he view me on that spectrum?

Assuming that he built his army by indoctrinating Hogwarts students, how did he even find them? Did he have spies at the castle? Had they been following me for months and reporting my activities to him? Was that why I’d never been punished for sneaking around? Perhaps I wasn’t as stealthy as I’d thought, even with my cloak, and Voldemort’s spies had caught a whiff of my actions. What had made him decide to finally speak to me himself?

He seemed to enjoy the act of teaching me, and not just for his intended purpose—he could have made an outstanding professor if he’d set his sights differently. Perhaps he saw me as a link to a lost opportunity, and viewed our lessons as the classroom dynamic he’d never had.

And was he interacting with me in a borderline-casual manner because he liked me, or was he trying to lull me into a false sense of security? If the latter, then what kind of trap would he have set for me one day? My stomach clenched at the worst-case scenarios that flashed through my mind.

I squirmed, suddenly feeling exposed, even though I was alone in my bedroom. I could almost feel Voldemort’s dark eyes on my back, staring in disbelief as he prepared to mentally break me for letting my ego grow too large.

I was probably just being paranoid; but at the same time, the man had discovered my secrets long before he’d first owled me at school, so there was no telling how much more he knew about me. I had no idea how far his powers reached—and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know. Whether or not he had spies, he likely had used Legilimency to rove through my thoughts at lightning speed after he’d brought me home. But gifted or not, there was no way he could read my mind from an ocean away.

Could he? Would he?

My face burned at the thought of him dissecting my bizarre train of thought. _Does he actually give a shit about me?_ I imagined him parroting back in a mocking tone, embarrassing me until I could barely look at him. Why on Earth was I thinking that he favored me in any capacity? He had no friends. He had no equals. And I could ill afford to forget that.

If he knew what I was thinking right now, he would surely use such ridiculousness against me later on. I’d have to keep my mind firmly fixed on other topics when I saw him in the fall—not like that would stop him, should he choose to go exploring inside my head, but I would at least _attempt_ to protect my mind. I couldn’t just stand there helplessly and let him invade my privacy like a mental burglar.

Despite my apprehension, a smile crept onto my face at the thought of returning to his noble manor, protected from the outside world and free to indulge my demons through my secret lessons. And yes, I could admit that I was also looking forward to seeing my perplexing, charismatic instructor. There really was no one like him.


	3. Alternate Beginning 1 | Chapter 3

The Dark Lord wrote to me the day after my seventh year began, telling me that we would meet two nights later. I eagerly awaited 11pm, the time he’d requested me, and I had just finished putting my books away when Ashlee jumped onto Leah’s bed, which was next to mine. She was giggling like crazy as Monica ran in behind her.

Leah was in the hospital wing, so her bed would remain unoccupied for the night. At least, it had been unoccupied until fifteen seconds ago.

“What’s going on?” I asked, anxiously looking at the clock; I had less than ten minutes to spare before I needed to leave. But I obviously couldn’t say so.

“Oh Merlin, Alex, you should have seen the look on his ffff—” More giggles.

“It was the greatest thing ever!” Monica exclaimed. “And he won’t even know that it was us! It was BRILLIANT!”

The long and short of it was that my friends had pranked this Gryffindor wanker who had been bothering Monica in Herbology. Ever since she’d rebuffed his advances, he had done everything he could to sabotage her as “payback” for saying no to him. The breaking point had come during the spring, on the last day of term before exams: in the middle of breakfast, he had attempted to spill pumpkin juice into her cauldron to ruin her completed homework. He had tried to look casual, walking toward the Slytherin table with a full goblet by his side, but Ashlee had spotted him. As he’d begun to raise his glass, Ashlee had raised hell. There had been screaming, shoving, a faceful of pumpkin juice—not hers—and a promise to make the boy rue the day he’d ever laid eyes on Monica. He’d laughed it off while cleaning his face, chalking up the threat to mere bravado. Clearly, he hadn’t known who he was dealing with. He’s spent the summer in a fool’s paradise.

In retaliation, Ashlee and Monica had just sprayed him with some jokeshop product that gave victims uncontrollable diarrhea, and only while they were too far from a toilet to hold it in. It had a delayed-action response, so my friends had sauntered off down the hallway after completing the deed, and then watched the fallout from around a corner.

I thought the endeavor disgusting and childish, but Ashlee and Monica found it side-splittingly funny. They kept reenacting his body language over and over while howling with laughter.

I pretended to be exhausted, even lying down to signal that I was done with their _shitty_ conversation, but my friends were riding a high they were determined to share with me. “You’re not even in your PJ’s!” Monica insisted. “You can’t go to bed yet!”

Fifteen minutes went by before my Housemates finally calmed down and retired to their own beds on the other side of the dorm room. By that time, I was practically shaking.

I had never been late for one of my lessons before, and I had no idea what Voldemort would do to me tonight. He’d never harmed me, or even threatened to harm me, before now; but he was also quite rigid and was probably seething over having to wait for me.

With my heart in my throat, I threw my cloak over my body and tiptoed out of the Slytherin dungeons as quickly and quietly as I could. _He’s going to kill me,_ I thought, only half-joking in my exaggeration. By the time I arrived at Hogsmeade, I could feel the indentation my teeth had left in my quivering bottom lip.

I had barely begun to remove my cloak when the Dark Lord grabbed me. We were inside his library seconds later.

He stared at me, expressionless, for a long moment, probably hoping I would wither under his scrutiny and beg forgiveness.

I could barely hold eye contact with him. Again. Merlin, why was his stare so potent? Why did I always feel so exposed around him? My heart thumped and my stomach roiled.

“Welcome back,” he finally said, speaking a slow and quiet tone. “It is lovely to see you again.”

“Y-you too, my Lord,” I replied, barely above a whisper.

“Come.” He opened the enchanted wall that led to his underground chamber, and gestured for me to enter the tunnel. He walked behind me for a while, unnerving me further, before falling into step beside me.

“How was your summer.”

I could tell that he was displeased—his jaw was set, eyes narrowed slightly as he looked straight ahead instead of at me, fingers flexing every so often—but he was speaking with restraint. _Why?_

“It was...okay, I guess—it’s...I mean, it’s hard for me to be happy around my family, but I made the best of it.”

Painful silence. The air seemed to tighten around me.

“W-what about you?” I offered. “How was...your summer?”

“Uneventful.”

I nodded, attempting to slow my breathing. I did not like where this conversation was going.

We were a few feet away from the chamber entrance when he slammed me against the wall, his face inches from mine. His glare looked like it could crack steel. I felt his hot breath on my face and it took all my self-control not to flinch. The throbbing pain in the back of my skull only felt like a distant aggravation.

“Why were you late.”

_Aaaand there it is._

His words were soft, but cutting. His voice was the smoke above a volcano ready to erupt, and I would not let his soft tone fool me. He was enraged.

I exhaled shakily before a torrent of words dribbled out of me. “I—I’m sorry, my Lord. I’m so sorry. I was about to leave and then my friends came over to my bed and they wouldn’t stop talking...I—I kept telling them I was tired and I wanted to go to sleep, but they wouldn’t go away, and I couldn’t just tell them what I was doing, where I was going, or they would know that we...I...I’m so sorry, my Lord...I am _so_ sorry....”

“You should have gotten into bed earlier. You should already be in the habit of feigning sleep by the time all your Housemates retire for the night, so that you will have no trouble slipping out of the castle. Given how long we’ve been meeting, and how responsible you are, such circumstances should have already occurred to you. I am very disappointed in your lack of planning.”

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” I repeated in a whisper, looking at my feet. “I’ll always be on time from now on.”

“Oh, I know. Because if you are ever late again, I will hold you under the Cruciatus curse for every minute I have to spend waiting for you. These sessions are not for sport, and our meeting times are not up for debate. We only have a narrow window in which to work, to allow you adequate time at school to study and sleep. If I find that your attitude toward my lessons is anything short of serious, you will be begging for death. Do _not_ waste my time.”

I forced down the shame and terror and willed myself to respond. “I understand, my Lord. I promise I won’t disappoint you again.”

“You’d better not.”

We stood there in acute silence, him seething and me shaking, before he edged a bit closer. When I risked a glance upward, my fear suddenly morphed into confusion.

The Dark Lord was regarding me with a baffling expression—the anger was still evident, but underneath was a layer of searching curiosity. Was he reading my mind again? Or was he just deep in thought? Was he planning to torture me after all, but debating his method? I needed to know.

“What is it?” I asked quietly.

“What is what.”

I swallowed hard and glanced away for a moment. “It looks like you’re—staring.”

A humorless chuckle escaped him, one side of his mouth briefly twitching upward. “You’re an uncommonly beautiful girl, Alex. What man _wouldn’t_ stare.” His eyes flashed as he tucked my hair behind my ear. “...At least once in a while.”

I blinked several times. My eyes widened and my lips parted as my breathing sped up.

_What. Just—what._

“Look at you,” he drawled, cupping my face in his hands and forcing me to look into his eyes. “Flushed cheeks...pouty lips...fluttering eyelashes....what a sight you are.”

_Okay...no. I’m not batting my eyelashes at you, my lips are not pouty, and I most certainly am NOT flushed. That assertion is ridiculous. You’re just trying to humiliate me further._

He shook his head as he moved his hands to my hair, running his fingers down the long strands before abruptly pulling away and balling his hands into fists at his sides. His head twitched ever so slightly. All I could do was stand there, paralyzed, and wait for his next move. I was too afraid to even wonder what he was thinking.

Several seconds passed before he sharply grabbed the inside of my elbow and pulled me into the chamber. “Come on,” he said gruffly. “As much as I’d _love_ to keep you here all night, we only have a limited time for this lesson, since you insisted on being late.”

_He’d keep me here_ all night? _No. NO, there is no WAY that means what it sounds like. Absolutely not. Alex, don’t you DARE think like that. Not him. That is dangerous. HE is dangerous._

_And I wasn’t_ really _blushing—was I?_

I wasn’t sure how I paid attention to his instructions for the next hour and a half, or how I managed to avoid being tortured for my occasionally-wandering focus, but I somehow completed the night’s lesson in once piece. With another stern warning to be on time three days later, the Dark Lord took me back to Hogsmeade and Disapparated without another word.

As I walked back to Hogwarts, I should have been thinking about the threats to my safety, my life. I should have been thinking about how angry Voldemort had been, simply because I had been twenty minutes late to one lesson. I should have been shaking like a leaf.

Instead, all I could think about was his behavior after he’d slammed me against the wall.

_The Dark Lord called me beautiful,_ I thought, trying not to smile. _Lord Voldemort called me beautiful. Lord Voldemort unabashedly stared at me and called me_ uncommonly _beautiful. What did that even mean?_

Given that he had threatened my life right before complimenting my appearance, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Men like him probably had certain...proclivities...that would turn most people’s stomachs. And it didn’t matter how twisted I was; how much of my own darkness I saw in him—I didn’t want to know _that_ part of him.

No boy—or man—had ever called me beautiful before. I knew my looks were above average, but I hadn’t given much thought to their impact on the opposite sex. When I’d first started at Hogwarts, an outcast from the get-go, I had quickly learned that desirable behavior was more impactful than desirable appearances. There were students whose faces were plain, but they had more friends than I did. They’d had more experience with the opposite sex than I did. I had envied them for years before finally learning to cultivate my self-respect. Outside of academics, I was constantly preoccupied with how best to survive and stay out of harm’s way. My appearance hadn’t seemed relevant.

And I certainly never thought that the world’s most power-obsessed Dark wizard would even care what I looked like, as long as I could serve him. Why would he mention my appearance? And why would he mention it _right after threatening my life?_ Maybe he had a necromancy kink and I had given him the idea of—ew. No. That was _gross._ Even _I_ found such a notion repulsive.

I fell into a restless sleep that night, tossing and turning under the weight of anxiety and confusion. Given how much I had angered him, I supposed the Dark Lord wanted it that way. At least having a subpar night’s sleep was better than being tortured and killed. I resolved to heed Voldemort’s words and get into bed much earlier from then on. I couldn’t risk the alternative.


	4. Alternate Beginning 1 | Chapter 4

I was never late for a lesson again.

As per my uptight instructor’s suggestion, I began retiring an hour or so earlier than I normally did, already “asleep” by the time my Housemates had settled down for the night. And though my apprehension over angering the Dark Lord never fully dissipated, I had relaxed enough after a few weeks that I was able to enjoy our sessions again.

Until he began touching me more than normal.

At first it was gestures that appeared subconscious, like his usual conversational accents; but then his hand would linger on my arm, or my shoulder, or my back, and rub ever so slightly. There was nothing subconscious about that. That was deliberate. Probably just another power play, I reminded myself; nothing to be surprised about, but unnerving nonetheless. Unnerving because no one had ever touched me that way before—and unnerving because part of me liked it. Regardless of Voldemort’s intentions toward me, I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed the contact. It was so different from the way people normally treated me. I may have caught a few boys staring at me in class, but no one I’d actually _want_ to touch me.

As baffling as our dynamic was, at least it was better than being pawed at by some insecure teenager I didn’t even like. I didn’t have time for that.

I resolved to take Voldemort’s behavior at face value and not assign it special meaning, as such thought patterns would only knot me up further. With my upcoming NEWT exams, I had enough to be stressed about without adding on imaginary problems.

It was in the middle of November when I finally allowed myself to wonder if the Dark Lord saw me as more than a potential recruit.

We were standing in the middle of the underground chamber, and he was teaching me to conjure a massive deadly shield that could protect me against dozens of attackers at once. Since the casting was nonverbal and required more mental discipline than spells with incantations, the Dark Lord placed much emphasis on the proper arm movements and thought processes involved in the conjuring. I couldn’t wait to try it out.

Arranging my body in a fighting stance, I raised my arms and made to quickly trace a large circle in the air with my wand—the first step to conjuring the shield. And then criticism interrupted me.

“Your stance is wrong.”

“My—what? What am I doing?”

Instead of explaining or demonstrating the correction, he walked behind me and placed his hands on my waist. I tensed.

“Relax,” he ordered. “Focus. Now, this spell has a bit of a recoil, so you need to anchor your back leg more firmly—yes, that’s it.” He pushed and pulled on my torso, demonstrating the effect of the conjuring.

“Your left arm is fine,” he muttered, touching it briefly before returning his hand to my waist. “Your right arm is too stiff; loosen it up to let the force of the spell flow through it.” He reached out and placed his right hand over mine, adjusting my position while snaking his left arm around my middle. My body went rigid all over again—I had never stood this close to anyone before. And I was too afraid to ask him to step back.

“W-what...what are you—”

“Concentrate,” he hissed into my ear, letting his lips tickle the skin. Goosebumps blanketed my arms. “You won’t have the luxury of asking questions during a fight. Ignore your emotions and pay attention to your target. Now cast the spell.”

After a trembling inhalation, I drew a circle in the air and then jabbed my wand straight forward, reminding myself of the mental fortitude required to conjure the shield. Even with the Dark Lord guiding my movements, it was still immensely difficult. The pushback from the force of the shield nearly made me lose my footing at first, which jolted me back against Voldemort’s chest. Embarrassed as I was, I still tried to keep the shield in place. It only lasted a few seconds—I hadn’t summoned enough power, given my apprehension, and I was now too tired to hold it any longer.

“Not bad,” he remarked after the shield disintegrated. He explained the ways I needed to improve, all while still holding me in position, and told me to try again.

“Better,” he told me after my second attempt. “One more time tonight—without me.” After slowly withdrawing his arms, he walked a few feet away and nodded slowly. Relieved to have my personal space again, yet also nervous about my ability to cast the spell alone, I attempted the shield once more.

This time, the ominous black mass formed more quickly, and I was able to hold it in place for a solid ten seconds. It was tiresome, sapping my energy with the required physical exertion, but it at least held. And I remained on my feet. The shield no longer had holes in it, or spots where the scattered spikes had dulled and wilted like dead flowers. It was quite a sight.

“Excellent,” Voldemort praised as he returned to my side. “Not perfect, but quite satisfactory for your first day trying it. We’ll work on it again next week.”

I turned to face him, but kept sneaking glances to my left to look at the disintegrating shield. It really _had_ been an accomplishment.

“That is highly advanced magic, you know. Far outside the scope of the Hogwarts curriculum.”

I grinned, looking at the remains of the shield once again.

“You should be quite proud of yourself, Miss Halaway,” he continued. “I certainly am.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” I said softly, bowing my head before looking up at him with a small smile. “I—I have a good teacher.”

I then averted my eyes, which were widened in mortification. _Where the hell did that THAT come from?! That was...playful. Too casual. What the fuck am I doing?!_

He tilted my chin up, allowing me to see his sly grin. “And I have a fantastic student.”

I giggled. I couldn’t help it. It was such a bizarre exchange, laughing was my only method of diffusing the awkwardness—the awkwardness _I_ felt, anyway. The Dark Lord didn’t appear the least bit fazed. He was still smirking down at me, looking highly amused by my discomfort. To my alarm, I felt my lips turning upward of their own accord, unwilling to be moved, and I had to look away again.

“Come on,” he muttered, squeezing my shoulder. “Let’s go over your notes.”

He led me over to one of the hightop tables where I often spread out the rolls of parchment I’d brought to the Hogwarts library, taking notes on the books I was sneaking out of the Restricted Section. Such was a common occurrence during these lessons—but not with Voldemort’s hand still firmly planted on my shoulder. I gave him a questioning look, and he merely motioned for me to produce the parchment. He wasn’t letting go of me.

I chewed on my lip as I reached into my robes. Clearing my throat, I spread out my notes and told the Dark Lord what I had been reading about that week. It was hard to focus with his hand rubbing my shoulder, and his gaze more on me than the parchment, but he wasn’t giving me any other options.

The book had been about Inferi—conjuring them, controlling them, and the like. That week, I had read through the chapters on the creation of such creatures, which was a highly complex procedure.

“This one section confused me,” I said, pointing to an area of the parchment where I had written a few question marks. “It’s talking about all the spells and preparations you have to make when you acquire the body, but it’s not clear to me if the timing is that important. There are examples of using a body that’s been dead an hour, and one that’s been rotting for months. Does the time of death actually matter?”

“It depends,” he replied, finally moving his hand to the parchment. “The magical properties in the human body decay along with the flesh and bone; so different spells might be needed to turn the body into an Inferius.”

“Is that why the text is talking more about the timeline of spellcasting, and only sometimes referencing the body’s age?”

“Yes; following the proper procedure is more important than the state of the body. That’s also why the instructions place special emphasis on the order of spells cast; regardless of the body’s condition, one incantation spoken out of order can unravel the whole process. And are you wearing silver lipstick?”

“Am I—what?”

_I must have misheard him. He is NOT talking about my fucking makeup. Why would he give a shit?_

“Are you wearing silver lipstick?” he repeated, as if such an inquiry were perfectly ordinary. Especially when delivered during a discussion about controlling dead bodies.

I nearly laughed at the absurdity of the question, until I saw the look on Voldemort’s face. He looked mildly amused, but not enough that he would accept a lack of response.

“Yes, my Lord,” I answered, barely above a whisper. _Where was he going with this?_

“I’ve often wondered why your lips are always shimmering.” His smirk widened as he walked closer to me and ran his thumb down the middle of my mouth before settling on my chin. “It can be a bit of a distraction, you know.”

I blinked and swallowed hard. My head was spinning again. “I—I’m sorry; do you want me to take it off?”

“Nonsense...nonsense,” he murmured, sliding his thumb across my mouth. “I’m sure your lips are lovely to look at either way.”

I had barely registered my surprise at his words when he suddenly cupped my cheeks and closed the distance between us. I froze up, unsure of what to do—and if this really was happening—until he parted my lips with his tongue and began massaging. I had no idea why I was allowing it, or why I was reaching up and placing my hands on his biceps, but there we were. My first kiss wasn’t some fumbling boy in a darkened hallway at school; it was a grown man who knew exactly what he was doing. The most feared and evil man in the entire Wizarding world. And I was kissing him back, losing myself in the soothing sensations of his lips and tongue slowly moving against mine, his hands stroking my cheeks, and my fingers gripping his strong arms.

The kiss lasted several seconds, but it felt like hours. By the time he pulled away, my mind felt so saturated that my whirring thoughts had grinded to a screeching halt. I looked up at him, wide-eyed and in disbelief about what had just happened.

“...And even lovelier to taste,” he purred, tracing his thumb over my trembling mouth once more.

I was about to speak—or at least try to formulate a coherent sentence—when he roughly grabbed my face and crushed his lips over mine. There was nothing slow or gentle about it this time; he was now devouring. Controlling. Demanding obedience. His right hand reached into my hair and grabbed the strands in his fist, eliciting a muffled yelp from my throat just before he moved his left hand down to my breasts and began squeezing roughly. I squealed when he pinched a nipple.

He gripped my hair even tighter just as I was _thinking_ about trying to break free— _bloody Legilimency!—_ and hooked his left arm around my back to pull me close.

He was kissing me ferociously now. I was sure my lips would be swollen by the time he pulled away—something he didn’t seem intent on doing just yet. His breathing spiked with mine as he gripped me tighter and tighter. It felt like he might pull the hair out of my scalp. When I was about to shriek in protest, he released my mouth and kissed his way across my left cheek and down the side of my neck. He was still grasping my hair and massaging my scalp, though not as tightly as before. The pain finally began to dull.

“You are _so_ beautiful,” he mumbled against my fluttering pulse. I felt him smirking at my shaky gasp, before he bestowed more searing kisses all around my neck and throat.

_This is nothing special to him._ _He probably fools around with a bunch of female Death Eaters, just to get his rocks off. And I’ll bet he humiliates any of them who think they’re actually important to him. This is surely just another test—a test of loyalty, a test of logic, a test of keeping my wits about me. I will not fail._

A stark contrast to my brain’s rational thinking, my body was heating up and I heard myself panting, gripping the Dark Lord’s shoulders tightly as I tried desperately not to cry out. My attempts at keeping quiet almost worked, until he sank his teeth into the nape of my neck. The carnal scream I had suppressed burst forth as he bit me again and again. He was hurting me; but the pain was intensely erotic, somehow. I didn’t want him to stop.

I was keening with my head thrown back and my eyes closed, shuddering in his arms as he licked the side of my neck and nibbled on my earlobe. He kissed my cheek a few times before finally releasing me. Hating my shakiness, I grabbed the table to steady myself; I refused to just stand there, trembling like a fool.

“That was your first kiss, wasn’t it.”

His remark startled me, as I’d already mentally left the room. All I could do was stare up at him and nod stupidly.

“As I told you the first time we Apparated together—you’re quite good at it.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” I whispered, torn between smiling and turning away in embarrassment over my body’s responses to him.

His smirk morphed into a wicked sneer as he traced a finger down the front of my robes. “I can’t wait to find out what else you’re good at,” he muttered under his breath.

My eyes widened and I took a step back. Whatever _tasks_ he was pondering, I knew I didn’t want to entertain such notions; at least, not with him. I still had no idea what his true intentions were, and I wasn’t about to go whoring myself around. Yes, he was devastatingly handsome and highly intelligent—traits I found immensely attractive in a man—but he wasn’t a potential suitor. He likely had unsavory motives for touching me and I couldn’t let myself be fooled.

Whether he was reading my thoughts or he was simply impatient, he looked at me like a child who wasn’t paying attention in class. “Focus,” he ordered, yet again, tapping the parchment with his index finger and returning to the subject of Inferi like nothing had happened to interrupt him. I swallowed and did my best to act unfazed.

When it was finally time for me to return to Hogwarts, Voldemort brushed the hair off my neck and stroked the spot where he’d bitten me.

“You are forbidden from removing that,” he instructed.

“Removing what?”

He pressed his fingers to my neck, and I winced. “That.”

My jaw dropped as I caught his meaning. “Did you—did you seriously give me a hickey?!” I laughed without wanting to. Damn it, this was supposed to be _alarming;_ not hilarious!

“It’s a bit more than that,” he chuckled. “I am grateful to your long hair. And the cold weather. Wear turtlenecks for the next several days.”

I covered my mouth to stifle more laughter as he Summoned my invisibility cloak and handed it to me. Merlin, this man was just full of surprises.

* * *

The mark on my neck was disfiguring. I gasped as I tiptoed into the Slytherin girls’ bathroom that night to have a look at my reflection—the wound was a huge bluish, purplish splotch that stung when I stretched my neck. Bloody crescents mapped the exact spots where teeth had dug into tender flesh, and they were starting to scab.

Outside of my collared school uniform, turtlenecks were a lifesaver that week.

The Dark Lord said nothing out of the ordinary after he collected me for my next lesson, making normal conversation until we had arrived in the underground hall. Instead of leading me into the middle of the chamber, however, he brought me to a corner of the room and backed me up against the wall.

“Let me see your neck,” he drawled slowly, brushing my hair away from my right shoulder. I felt my face flushing under his scrutiny.

“Lovely,” he praised, “but you heal far too quickly for my liking.”

Grabbing my hair, he yanked my head to the side and began biting the wound. I moaned loudly before I could stop myself. My cries filled the hall as his mouth moved over me, leaving fresh marks on my already-damaged skin. I could barely breathe by the time he finally lifted his head up and captured my lips.

His kiss was fierce. All-consuming. It felt like he was commanding me to focus on nothing but him, just like he did while teaching me—he always hated it when my mind wandered. I apologized whenever my focus drifted, explaining that I had struggled to stay present since I was a child growing up in an abusive household, but he would not hear excuses. I was no longer a little girl, and I couldn’t afford to let my past hold me back. He’d brought me to him to help me improve my skills, he reminded me; not to bemoan my prior obstacles like a helpless fairy maiden. I couldn’t argue with that.

My current struggles were nothing like those of my childhood. I was worried about being played for a fool...being tricked into thinking that a serial killer had actually developed a soft spot for me...but I couldn’t help but respond when he had me pressed against the wall, devouring my mouth and running his hands all over me.

He was obviously enjoying it. He wasn’t pretending to find me physically appealing; I could discern that much. He was breathing as heavily as I until he withdrew, and the passion in his eyes betrayed his calm visage. At least he wasn’t _completely_ faking it.

“Enough of that,” he muttered as he pulled me further into the hall. “Lesson time.”


	5. Alternate Beginning 1 | Chapter 5

The Dark Lord began kissing me every time we met for training, at least once a night. Sometimes it was a soft peck on my mouth or my cheek, and sometimes it was a scorching gesture of possession that left us both panting. I didn’t dare ask what it meant. I was there to learn the Dark Arts; not inquire as to my instructor’s emotional state. And apart from a few steamy, reckless minutes per week, he appeared as focused and in control as ever.

He congratulated me in November, when I passed my Apparition test with distinction. I still needed him to bring me to his home, as per his protective wards, but I could Disapparate alone now. I felt quite proud of myself.

I was also proud of myself for not succumbing to a typical teenage infatuation with the Dark Lord just because we were locking lips. Unlike most girls, who had grown up sheltered from the harsh realities of interpersonal relationships, I was grounded enough to discern the difference between lust and love. Though I didn’t crave the latter, I certainly enjoyed the former, having had no experience with mutual attraction before. I’d watched with burning jealousy as my classmates had begun pairing up a few years earlier, wondering if I’d ever get my chance. I worried that I’d have to settle for some boring boy I didn’t even like, because perhaps no one I wanted would ever return my affection—even on a purely physical level.

Though I considered myself relatively level-headed in regards to my interactions with the Dark Lord, one moment at the end of a practice session shook me up a bit—both because of the Dark Lord’s behavior and the possible implication of his words. I had just walked away from him and Summoned my invisibility cloak, about to drape it over myself when my instructor’s voice stopped me.

“Oh, and Alex....”

I turned to look at him.

“You don’t need to put on makeup before you come to see me.” He paused, staring without blinking. “You’re beautiful enough without it.”

My heart fluttered, but my face numbed.

His comment was flattering, but also disturbing. How did he know what I looked like bare-faced? I’d always made sure my appearance was immaculate before going to see him, wanting to make the best possible impression visually as well as behaviorally. I had been on the verge of running late that night, barely having had enough time to throw on some eyeliner and lipstick before sneaking off to Hogsmeade.

Was his knowledge a result of Legilimency? More than likely—I couldn’t stomach the other scenarios my paranoid mind was conjuring, so I resolved to not give it another thought. I nodded at the Dark Lord, and whispered a quiet “thank you” before Disapparating.

_It’s nothing,_ I mumbled to myself as I hurried back to Hogwarts. _He probably doesn’t even know what you look like without makeup; he’s just trying to rile you up. And you’re totally falling for it. Relax, girl._

At least I could see Voldemort’s behavior for what it was. I mentally patted myself on the back for my insight; being forced to mature rapidly after enduring trauma did, in fact, have a few perks.

* * *

Even though I had no idea why the Dark Lord kept kissing me and then acting like nothing had happened, I had grown accustomed to his strange behavior by the time December rolled around. As I’d told myself countless times, ruminating and agonizing over his potential motives would only cause me suffering—especially when he finally tired of me. I figured I may as well enjoy it while it lasted and take it for what it was: an enjoyable physical experience that would better prepare me for an actual relationship with someone else down the road. I imagined hooking up with a few male Death Eaters after my initiation, and laughing to myself over my prior forays with our master before settling down in a permanent relationship. Regardless of how long this arrangement lasted, or how long it took me to find a partner after it ended, I resolved to never breathe a word about my secret sessions with the Dark Lord. I was not the type to kiss and tell.

Maybe my calm acceptance of our interactions aggravated Voldemort, upsetting the balance of power out of his favor. He couldn’t feel completely in control if I wasn’t at least a _little_ bit apprehensive around him.

Maybe he’d grown bored with the same behavior, week after week, and craved a challenge.

Or perhaps he’d decided to embrace some unseen force I hadn’t noticed, which had been brewing under the surface all along.

Whatever it was, he was no longer the smoke on top of the volcano—the calm before the storm; the warning signal of the impending eruption. He became the storm.

We were discussing my latest batch of notes, as we did each time we met. Nothing unusual there. We’d been talking for about ten minutes when, in the middle of my asking a question, he violently slammed his fist onto the table. I jumped.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he muttered, more to himself than to me as he stared at the parchment. His neck twitched, and a vein in his forehead pulsed.

“Wait for what?” I asked, trying not to panic. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He faced me and extended his arm, pointing behind my back. “Turn around and walk toward that wall.”

“What—what’s going on?”

_“Now!”_

I gasped. He had never raised his voice before, always preferring to deliver his messages with powerful words while keeping his tone low.

“Yes, my Lord,” I whispered, and pivoted on wobbly legs to approach the wall about fifty feet away. I heard him at my heels, following my every step.

When I reached the wall, I turned back around to see the Dark Lord glaring at me, wand extended.

“Arms over your head.”

“Wha—can...can you please just tell me what’s going on?!”

He looked up to the ceiling and rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh, before grabbing my right shoulder and slamming me against the wall. His wand jabbed in between my ribs.

_“CRUCIO!”_

I screamed and sobbed violently as invisible hands twisted my muscles and crushed my bones like brittle tree branches—at least, that’s what the torture curse felt like. I knew the pain would end when Voldemort lowered his wand; I just didn’t know when that would be. Would I live through it? Would I pass out and then wake up several hours later, grievously injured?

“STOP. HESITATING. WHEN I GIVE YOU. AN ORDER.”

His barking tone eclipsed my cries, and I managed to eke out an _I’m s-s-sor-ryyy_ through my agony. Only after I apologized did he finally lift the curse.

I couldn’t look at him. I was terrified, but also furious with myself for defying him when I’d already known what he was capable of. Was he in an exceptionally bad mood? Or had I simply grown too comfortable around him, and he now felt the need to remind me of my place? Either way, I had played with fire and so I got burned.

His command brought me back to reality, allowing me no more time to chastise myself. “Arms. Over. Your head. _Now.”_

Fighting back another round of tears, l extended my trembling arms outward and slowly drew them together above my head.

The Dark Lord pointed his wand at the ceiling and traced a line down toward me. The ceiling was so high, I couldn’t even see what was going on until movement appeared about ten feet above my head.

“What is that?” I asked shakily as I saw a hanging blonde object come into view. The closer it traveled, the more my heart rate spiked.

And then I finally saw what Voldemort’s wand had summoned from the ceiling: a rope. An enchanted rope.

“No...” I whispered as the thick material wound around and in between my wrists, pulling one behind the other before tying itself in a tight knot. As I was watching this horrifying scene, I barely registered the Dark Lord unfastening my robe and pushing it back against my shoulders. I was crying again before I could stop myself. “No...please...what are you—”

And then his lips were on mine, cutting off my protest. His hands gripped my face as he forced his tongue into my mouth. Salty tears mixed with saliva as his tongue moved against mine, and my cheeks throbbed where his fingers were digging in.

He slid his hands down to stroke my breasts, still kissing me hard. Despite my terror over having been cursed and tied up, I felt my body warming once more under his touch. I even arched my back as his hands kneaded and rubbed me over my shirt. I couldn’t help it. Maybe I was weaker than I thought; but there was certainly no way for me to protest—just to prove my level-headedness—while I was tied to a bloody wall. I may as well have enjoyed it.

His lips moved to my neck as his hands traveled down my torso, eliciting more moans from my parched throat, until I felt cold fingers sliding up under my skirt. My windpipe closed up. I couldn’t breathe. _What was he doing?!_

In one vicious break, he ripped my panties clean in half. He shoved his hand in between my legs, already rubbing furiously before the fabric even hit the floor. Returning his lips to mine, he slipped a finger inside me and began sliding it in and out. I gasped against his forceful kiss, barely able to breathe. When he added another finger, I squealed into his mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut as he withdrew from the kiss and curled his fingers. Tension was building inside my body and I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not.

“Look at me,” he snapped gruffly. “I want to see your eyes when you come.”

My eyes flew open—more in shock over his words and less over a desire to follow his instructions—and I looked up at him with a pleading expression. Was I silently begging him to stop? Not to stop? Did I want more time to think this through before taking my bloody clothes off for him? It didn’t matter. The Dark Lord always got what he wanted, and my reluctance was irrelevant.

It wasn’t like I’d never pondered the extent to which his interest ran; part of me wasn’t even surprised at his current behavior, intuitive as I was. And I may have enjoyed the mental image of him doing more than just kissing me, but I wasn’t sure if I’d actually wanted to turn such titillating visions into reality—not that I had a choice. He was working my body expertly, tipping me over the edge before I could decide if I was ready.

It was a struggle to keep my eyes open as my body quaked and erotic screams tore from my throat, but I couldn’t afford to displease the Dark Lord again. And there _was_ something quite sensual about locking eyes with a man while his fingers were deep inside me, commanding me to respond.

He withdrew his hand only when my body sagged in exhaustion. After slowly looking me up and down, he slipped his soaked fingers into his mouth. My eyes widened. His shoulders slumped and a low growl escaped his throat.

“Have you any idea how phenomenal you taste?” The fire in his eyes scorched my face.

I blinked several times, not knowing how to respond.

“Here, let me show you,” he said, before crushing his mouth over mine again. The salty sweetness on his tongue wasn’t entirely terrible, but I wasn’t as enamored with the flavor as he was.

He didn’t care. He kissed me until I could hardly breathe, and then shoved his fingers back in between my legs. I squeaked in surprise. Working me up once again, he buried his face in my neck and caught the skin in his teeth while his left hand rubbed my waist.

Between his fingers pumping and his teeth assaulting my neck, I felt like putty in his hands. My second orgasm was even more powerful than the first, and little white spots popped up behind my tightly-closed eyes while my body convulsed.

He didn’t suck the fluid off his fingers this time; he instead grabbed my hips to flip me around. After pulling my back against his chest, he shoved his leg in between mine and reached around to hike up my skirt, spreading my thighs wider. I bit my lip as I felt his hardened length pressing against my lower back—it wasn’t difficult to visualize what he was going to do with it.

Would he really take it that far? Was I ready? Was I actually content to lose my virginity to someone like him, while tied to a fucking wall? And how many other women and girls had been in my exact position over the years? Had they enjoyed such encounters, or had they been forced into submission under threat of death?

I didn’t have much time to ponder this. Within seconds of lifting my skirt, the Dark Lord reached down and began toying with my clitoris. I had no energy left, but he didn’t care. He rubbed back and forth, up and down, and in lazy circles, determined to find out which motions would impact me the most. His free hand massaged my breasts.

Despite my exhaustion, I still felt my body responding and heard myself mewling helplessly. Chills coursed through me each time his lips touched my neck. He was kissing me as quickly as his fingers were working me until I threw my head back onto his shoulder as my hips bucked wildly. He continued rubbing while my body shook, even after the shockwaves had dissipated and I wanted to just rest. Pleasure soon turned to pain.

When I tried to wriggle out of his grip, he slammed me into the wall. Agony erupted in my chest and shoulders upon impact.

“You’re done when I say you’re done,” he growled while gripping my sex tightly. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, my Lord,” I whimpered.

“That’s right.”

He began stimulating me again, ignoring my whines of protest. I was completely spent after he’d dragged another release from my shaking body; I couldn’t even think. My head was still lolling on my chest beneath my slackened arms when he turned me back around to face him. Fluid was dripping down my limp thighs. My thoughts began blurring the way they did before I fell asleep each night, but I snapped to attention when I heard the Dark Lord unbuckling his trousers.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. _This is it. Am I ready? Will it hurt? Will I like it?_ My eyes widened as I allowed myself a glance downward. _How will he...fit?_

“Scared?” he taunted, sneering triumphantly as he stroked himself.

“A—a bit...”

My breathing spiked again when he rubbed his erection against my thigh. There was no stopping him now.

“Don’t worry,” he assured me, hoisting my legs up around his waist. “It only hurts once.”

A sharp pain tore through my center, and he was inside me. My body locked in place.

“Breathe,” he murmured in my ear. “You’re too tense.”

I inhaled, but it felt more like panting. My heart was hammering; I wasn’t sure if I was emotionally prepared for this. How could I _not_ be tense?

“Breathe _slowly._ Close your eyes and ground yourself.”

I obeyed, shaking as I took air into my lungs as gently as my pounding heart would allow. When I exhaled, he thrust forward. I yelped.

“Again. Inhale.”

We repeated the same process a few more times, until the pain finally ebbed and I began to relax.

“That’s it,” he purred as he began thrusting faster. “Give in to me.”

His words sent a ripple of desire through my body. Part of me still couldn’t believe what was happening, but I was at last beginning to enjoy myself. I relished the tremors erupting in between my thighs each time he drove deep inside me; I was no longer fighting him, in my body or my mind. Whatever this arrangement was...whatever I meant to him...I was going to savor these delicious moments without worrying about the consequences. I could take care of myself either way. I wasn’t going to lose my head over this man like a thirteen-year-old with an innocent crush.

Several minutes later, after another swell of pleasure crested, he bit my neck sharply and growled as his body shuddered. Warmth burst inside my loins.

I had no idea how long he held me in that position, panting against my neck, before slowly releasing my legs.

“Ohh...” I sighed in disgust as I looked down and saw blood mixed with pearly white liquid flowing down my thighs.

The Dark Lord chuckled at my facial expression. “Perfectly normal,” he remarked as he adjusted himself, before waving his wand to banish our bodily fluids. He cut off my sigh of relief by kissing me and running his hands over my torso.

“Merlin, Alex,” he mumbled against my lips.

“What?”

“You’re so small, and yet so voluptuous.” He squeezed my breasts and licking my cheek. “You’re every man’s dream.”

“I—I highly doubt that...no one has ever—”

“No one has ever had the courage to reach for you; that doesn’t mean there are no men leering at you from a distance.”

I cringed at the thought. It was hardly a compliment.

While I’d been wrinkling my nose, the Dark Lord had dropped to one knee and repaired my torn underwear with a flick of his wand. He began slowly sliding the material back up my legs—the gesture seemed so intimate and affectionate, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Until he sank his teeth into my inner thigh.

I screamed. My body jerked as he grabbed my behind under my skirt, rubbing firmly while his teeth tore at my skin. I was bleary-eyed again by the time he finally stood back up, a few drops of blood perched on his lips. He licked them off.

“You are forbidden from removing that as well,” he warned, tracing the new wound with his fingers. “Now, if any arrogant little boy thinks he can get up your skirt, he’ll see _that_ and realize you’re off-limits.”

My mouth went dry. How could I respond to such a declaration?

“I—I wasn’t going to—”

“Just making sure.”

“No one has ever liked me,” I reminded him. “And I don’t like any of the boys at school. I really don’t think anyone would even _try_ to start something with me.”

“Perhaps they’re merely afraid to approach you; you have quite a presence. But no matter. Their loss is my gain.”

He nibbled on my neck for another moment before abruptly pulling away and walking off.

“Wh-where are you going?” I called after him.

No response. He just kept walking.

It was hard not to panic. What was he playing at? How long would he leave me here, tied to the wall? Had this all been a game for him, and he was now going to leave me here to die? Would he keep me trapped here forever—a slave to his every desire, and nothing more? Merlin, how stupid had I been to wonder if any of this _meant_ something to him! So what if he’d just called me _off-limits_ to boys at school, and complimented my appearance? Maybe that was only another mind game. A meaningless lie. He probably just enjoyed the thrill of the chase, with a different young girl each time, and then lost interest as soon as he’d fucked the life out of her—

I struggled in vain against the ropes, wondering if any of my training in nonverbal spells and wandless magic could help me now. I accomplished nothing, other than to rub my wrists raw, but I couldn’t just stand there and die like a helpless ragdoll. I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Jerking my head to the left, craning my neck to see farther, I spotted the Dark Lord standing at a table on the opposite side of the chamber. Easily two hundred feet away. What was he doing? He appeared to be rummaging through supplies, looking for something—poison? A whip? An instrument of torture? I couldn’t see anything.

He returned a minute later with something in his hand. As he approached me, I saw that it was a goblet. A goblet with an off-white substance inside. Once in front of me, he pressed the goblet to my lips and tilted my chin up.

“Drink it.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a contraceptive potion.”

My shoulders sagged. _Merlin, I REALLY need to stop being so paranoid._

I parted my lips and allowed the cool liquid to slide down my throat. It tasted like water, but a bit more viscous. I didn’t care what it tasted like, though; as long as it would do its job, I’d drink a gallon of the stuff.

“Good girl,” he murmured as he set the empty goblet on a table behind him.

He then pointed his wand upward, and I collapsed into his arms—he’d freed me from the rope without giving me time to ready myself. Mortified at my current position, I tried to squirm away, but he gripped my arms and pressed me back against the wall.

“Calm down,” he urged me as he rubbed my shoulders. I winced. How long had my arms been jerked up above my head? How long would they feel this stiff? Now that the hormones had run their course, I realized I was in a great deal of pain. I tried to stretch my arms, but the Dark Lord wouldn’t let me move.

_“Calm yourself,”_ he repeated, rubbing my shoulders harder. “I’m trying to soothe you.”

“Why?”

He looked at me like I was daft. “So that you don’t stagger out of here in agony like a helpless animal.”

“...Oh.”

“Unless, of course, you want to stay here all night, refusing to let me lessen your pain just to prove that you don’t need my help, and then rush to get to your classes on time tomorrow because you have to run back to school from Hogsmeade. And after that, you’ll have to invent a story to tell your Housemates about why you weren’t in bed before breakfast....”

I pressed my lips together and averted my eyes.

“That’s what I thought. Now stand still. Stop fighting me.”

I obeyed, forcing myself to slow my breathing while the Dark Lord massaged my arms and shoulders. He occasionally stopped to kiss my cheek or my neck, sending little jolts of excitement through my body. It scared me that such a small gesture could now impact me so much. Maybe that was why he was doing it—reminding me who always held the power. As if that were ever in question.

I stumbled back to Hogwarts a few minutes later, dazed and still in shock over the night’s events. Between the sex, the Cruciatus curse, and the declaration that I was now _off-limits,_ I had no idea what to make of my situation. I still didn’t know what I represented to the Dark Lord, if anything other than a student and a physical release. I decided that I was done wondering; the next time I saw him, I would ask him about it.

I only hoped he wouldn’t torture me for my brazenness.

* * *

The thrills of that last training session followed in the next one. Just like the week before, we stopped discussing my notes about fifteen minutes before it was time for me to leave. When I asked him why, he smirked and said, “Turn around and walk.”

I couldn’t help but smirk back. “Yes, my Lord,” I replied coyly before approaching the far wall, this time with a spring in my step. I even raised my arms over my head before Voldemort told me to do so.

“Good girl,” he praised. “You’re a fast learner.”

The beginning of the encounter still hurt a bit, but not as much as the first time. At least there was no Cruciatus curse involved.

After cleaning us up and releasing my arms, he refastened my robe and smoothed it over. I started breathing faster as I realized I was finally about to voice my burning questions. Anxious apprehension was building in my chest, begging for release, and I couldn’t stall any longer.

“M-may I ask you something?”

He smiled briefly. “Sweet girl, you may ask me anything. What is it you wish to know?”

“Um...” I cleared my throat. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful; I just...I was just wondering if you—do you...bring a lot of girls here?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m—I mean...I’m not judging you; I was only wondering—”

He cocked his head to the side and looked at me incredulously. “Are you implying that I take a different girl up against this wall every other night?”

“Yes.”

I forced myself to return his stare and not feel intimidated. If I were to speak so brashly, I couldn’t dilute my words with gestures of insecurity.

The Dark Lord shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. “Alex...Alex...” he sighed, looking at me like I was losing my mind. “You are the only person I have ever brought into my home for any reason.”

“What?!”

“I told you back in September that our sessions were not for sport. I meant that in more ways than one. What did you think this was—a game?!”

“But...don’t you train your Death Eaters when they—”

“I train my Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor. I have no inclination to bring anyone into my home—not anyone but you.”

“But...why? Why do you want _me?_ ”

“Why not? You’re loyal, intelligent, beautiful, and a delight to be around. I’d be daft _not_ to want you.”

“I thought you were just trying to...see if I was gullible or something; I don’t know—”

“Alex, I have been exploring your thoughts since I first brought you to me. You are about the least gullible person on Earth—to the point that you assume it’s a trick anytime something _good_ happens to you.”

I bowed my head. He certainly _had_ been reading my thoughts....

“It wasn’t just that, though; I was also wondering if you were touching me to—to mess with my head. For your own amusement.”

“I touch you because I find you irresistable. I always have. Haven’t you noticed that I’ve been unable to keep my hands off of you from the very first moment you stood before me?”

“I thought that was just a power play—”

“Don’t you _dare_ make light of our encounters! For your information, if you so much as _hold hands_ with a boy at Hogwarts, I will have him killed.”

“I—I wasn’t going to! And I’m not trying to make light of anything; I thought I was only being logical, thinking this didn’t mean anything to you. I thought you were trying to make me feel more important to you than I really was, so I would be more determined to impress you.”

“Why would I need to manipulate you to gain your loyalty? You’re already loyal. You’ve already proven yourself worthy since long before I ever brought you home—taking the initiative to research Dark magic on your own, worrying what I would think of you as you planned to present yourself to me—I don’t need to condition you to make you want that which you already desire.”

I was speechless.

“Why the shock, love? You understand the way my mind works, and I understand yours. There’s no room for nasty surprises. You and I are similar enough that, even if you hadn’t been planning on joining my ranks, I would still have sought you out—for your abilities, and for the pleasure of your company.”

“How did you even find me in the first place?”

“A discussion for another time,” he replied curtly. “Now, since Thursday evening begins your winter break, we can afford to meet a bit earlier than usual.”

My face brightened. “How early?”

“Wait until a few hours after dinner, when all your Housemates have left for the holiday. Nine o’clock should be sufficient.”

“All right. I’ll be there.”

“Of course you will. For now, let’s get you back to Hogwarts.”


	6. Alternate Beginning 1 | Chapter 6

I had always eagerly awaited the holidays, when I would have the common room all to myself for weeks before term resumed. As the only Slytherin in my year to stay behind, I could enjoy a peaceful relaxation rarely available during the school year. Still, this year would be different—I’d be leaving the castle regularly without having to worry about waking a light sleeper, or bumping into someone stumbling out of the bathroom in the middle of the night.

I smiled all the way to Hogsmeade that night, after having counted down the hours until it was finally time to leave. Dinner seemed to take twice as long as normal, and it took my Housemates a painfully long time to pack up their belongings before departing for the Hogwarts Express. It amazed me how much people felt the need to pack for only two weeks.

At least I’d finally made it through the day. There were a few people milling about near the Hogsmeade entrance, so I made sure to be out of their sight when I removed my cloak—only from my face, so as to lessen the chances of being seen. Luckily, the Dark Lord was already waiting and grabbed me before anyone nearby could see the disembodied head floating in the air.

I was confused when we landed. Instead of the library, we were in a smaller room I’d never seen before. It was constructed from large dark gray stones, and lacked the high vaulted ceilings of the underground hall. It appeared to be a more normal-sized room.

“Where are we?” I asked, looking around and seeing a brown door on one side, and a small window on the other.

“Turn around,” he replied with a smirk.

I obeyed and gasped—before me was a mirror above chest of drawers opposite a huge, luxurious four-poster bed. The dark green comforter looked silky and soft, and accented the silver satin pillowcases. A perfect bed for a majestic Slytherin.

I bit my lip as the Dark Lord crept up behind me and slipped his arms around my waist. _I wasn’t here for lessons._

“Tonight, I’m going to take you properly,” he murmured as he unfastened my robe and pulled it off my shoulders. After planting a quick kiss on my neck, he took a step back and began removing his shoes and socks. I did the same.

He was already unbottoning his shirt when I stood back up, eyeing me hungrily as I followed his example. Barely another minute had passed before we were facing each other in nothing but our underwear. After tearing off my panties yet again, he threw me onto the bed and pinned my wrists down while he brushed his lips all over my face.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “You belong to me.”

I could only lie there panting as he unhooked my bra and tossed it onto the floor while nibbling on my neck.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“I’m yours,” I breathed, feeling my skin heat up as his lips trailed down my chest.

“You belong to me.”

“I belong to you— _ohh!”_ I cried out in surprise as he took a nipple into his mouth.

“Yes, you do,” he murmured, moving back up to kiss me briefly. “And, as such, I shall grant you a privilege given to no one else.”

“What’s that?”

“Say my name.”

“V—”

“My legal name.”

_He can’t be serious._ “...Tom?”

He nodded. “I want my name flowing from your lips like a fountain when I’m pleasuring you.”

A jolt of desire shot through me, and I shuddered simply at the thought of his implication. But I began shuddering a lot more as he kissed his way down my stomach, caressing my bare breasts and stroking my hips. I parted my legs for him without even thinking. Any former hesitancy was long gone, replaced by a desperate need of relief for the heavily pulsing ache building in between my thighs. It was almost painful.

The Dark Lord— _Tom—_ slowed his pace after licking my navel, dragging out the anticipation by leaving a trail of slow, hard kisses down the top of my pubic area. My pelvic muscles clenched in eagerness—until his lips unexpectedly traveled to my left thigh and began moving downward.

“Oh, Tom, please!!” I cried out, forcing back tears of frustration. “Please... _please....!”_

He bit into my leg and glared up at me. “I restrained myself around you for almost a _year,”_ he snapped. “Surely, you can wait another _minute.”_

I whimpered louder as I felt his lips move further down my leg, all the way to my ankle. He lingered there for a moment, presumably to drive me further into a frenzy, before sitting up to remove his underwear. Moving to my other ankle, he kissed his way up my leg even more slowly. I gripped the pillowcase until my knuckles blanched, pleading through incomprehensible jibberish as my thoughts blurred.

And then he was there. I moaned in relief and stroked his hair as he went to work—hungrily licking me up and down, probing my soaked flesh with his tongue and fingers, biting and sucking hard, flicking his tongue over the tiny, quivering nub nestled in slick folds....

I was squealing and my body was quaking, but I barely noticed my own movements. My entire world had shrunk down to Tom’s mouth working me, and his hands keeping my thighs spread obscenely wide. I screamed his name over and over as my body thrashed.

Six orgasms later, he finally licked his lips and crawled back up my trembling form to throw my legs over his shoulders. He sheathed himself inside me with one clean thrust, sending more ripples of pleasure coursing through me. I could no longer think. I cared for nothing but the feel of this man driving deep into my body while holding me down, panting and groaning atop me.

When he at last spilled himself inside me and collapsed onto my body, I lacked the strength to simply reach up and touch him—not that I would have been able to, as he kept my wrists pinned to the mattress even as he rested.

Time stood still.

I drifted in the hazy place between sleep and wakefulness, content to lie there even with fluids dripping out of me, until I felt warm lips sliding down my neck. Tom finally released my arms and rubbed my shoulders as his mouth began exploring my breasts. My eyes flew open.

“I thought we were falling asleep,” I chuckled, my voice cracking from exhaustion.

“Oh, no. Not yet. I’m not _nearly_ finished with you tonight.”

“I can see th— _ahhh!”_ His mouth was tugging on my nipples, alternating between them as he stroked the surrounding skin. After a few minutes, he grabbed one breast in both hands and began flicking his tongue over the nipple. Heat pulsed in between my legs once more. Shaky moans erupted from my throat, my voice reaching higher and higher as my body tensed.

“I think I can make you come like this,” he murmured in between rapid licks. He was right. I was soon shuddering beneath him again, bucking my hips and gripping his shouders as I rode out my release. Closing my eyes, I sighed and wondered how much more Tom had in store for me that night. And given that he was placing my arms above my head and ordering me not to move them, I figured I might not sleep for hours.

He moved to my other breast, massaging and licking and sucking until pleasure tore through my body once again. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and my head lolled on the pillow as my eyelids fluttered open and shut. I caught a glimpse of Tom grabbing his wand and scouring away all the fluid, and then placing the instrument on the bedside table before pulling me on top of him.

I giggled at this new and unexpected position, biting my lip as Tom massaged my behind and stroked my back. He was stiffening again and rubbing himself against my thigh. After a languorous kiss, he licked his way up my neck and whispered in my ear, “Suck me.”

I smirked and trailed kisses down his hard body, the way he’d done for me. His contented sighs brough a warm rush of pride to my belly. He gathered my hair in his hands as I approached his groin, bunching it up in one fist and holding it in place. He was breathing much faster now, gripping my hair in one hand and my shoulder in the other. I briefly locked eyes with him before curiously trailing my fingers up and down his length. I enjoyed watching the muscle twitch as I stroked it—clearly, even immortal monsters could fall to the mercy of their biology.

“Your _mouth,_ Alex!” the monster growled. I winced. After a deep breath, I took him into my mouth and began slowly bobbing up and down. His eyes rolled back and he shuddered. Despite my lack of experience, I was obviously doing something right.

His responses boosted my confidence, and I moved faster while massaging his testicles. Sighs turned to moans and his thighs began shaking. A short while later, he raised me up by my hair, dragging my mouth up his cock until I could only suck the tip.

“Harder,” he urged, placing my hand on the shaft to show me exactly what he wanted. Closing my fingers around the muscle, I jerked my hand up and down as I increased the pressure with my mouth. It was great fun to watch him clench his teeth and growl as I traced my tongue along the smooth tip of his cock and sucked gently. At least, it was fun until he gripped my hair forcefully enough to make my eyes start smarting. His whole body went rigid and he shoved my head all the way down. I nearly gagged.

“Swallow,” he ordered through loud moans, fisting my hair even tighter. Seconds later, a burst of hot and salty fluid exploded into my mouth. I had no choice but to gulp it all down. Ignoring the bitter taste, I forced my mind to go blank and completed the task with minimal struggle.

Tom kept me in place for another few seconds as he caught his breath, gasping and shuddering when I sucked him one more time as I lifted my head up.

“You are one talented girl,” he murmured, eyeing me up as I climbed off of him to lie on my back. “I will most certainly be availing myself of your abilities in the future.”

We lay in silence for a few minutes, lost in thought. As I snuck a glance to my right, I realized that I had never seen Tom look so relaxed. And I couldn’t help but feel smug because I had gotten him there.

And then I gasped.

“Tom—where’s the potion?” _He’d better not be trying to—_

“You’ll take it in the morning,” he mumbled. “Sleep now.”

I bit back a chuckle. “I’m staying the night?”

“Of course you’re staying the night. You’re on holiday.”

The chuckle escaped. “Really? Wow, okay. So...what time are you sending me back tomorrow?”

He sat up and looked at me like I was stupid. “You’re not going back to Hogwarts tomorrow.”

“Oh! I—how long am I staying here?”

“You’re staying here all through your winter break.”

I bolted upright. “Are you serious?”

“Alex, you never go home for the holidays, and the Hogwarts professors barely pay attention to the students who stay behind. Why would you stay at school, alone, when you could be here with me?”

He idly stroked my hair for a moment before I spoke again. “What will we be doing?”

“Well, I don’t need to tell you what we’ll be doing at night—” I snickered. “—as if the past half hour wasn’t any indication. And that potion will be in your tea every morning for the next two weeks.”

More laughter.

“During the day, we will continue your training, but for longer periods. You may explore the house during your down time as well. Knowing you, my little bookworm, I assume you’ll be spending much of that time in the library.”

I blinked.

“Is this an issue?”

“No, I—I just never thought you would _want_ me to stay here for that long.”

_“I’d bring you here every night if I could,”_ he replied in a teasing tone, repeating his words from our first meeting in the spring. “You think I wasn’t already imagining our current position back then?”

“I—I didn’t think so, no,” I replied, trying not to blush. Now that I thought about it, he was probably imagining many different _positions_ back then.

“Not even after I declared you off-limits to other men? After I marked your body repeatedly and called you mine? What about the fact that I’ve never brought anyone home except you? And Merlin, Alex, _I allow you to use my given name._ If anyone else did that, I would torture them.”

“Well—as I said a few days ago, I wasn’t sure what your intentions were; and I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. At first, I thought maybe you were just a very hands-on person, or that touching was part of how you manipulated people.”

“And what did I tell you when you posited this inquiry?”

“You said...that you didn’t need to manipulate me because I was already loyal.”

“Correct. You are trustworthy, smart, beautiful, and talented in _many_ ways. I will not allow anyone else to have you—in or out of the bedroom. You belong to me. You are now my property.”

I shook my head, not believing what I was hearing. “Are you saying that we are in a...relationship?”

“It took you this long to figure that out?!”

I shook my head again as I felt my face heat up. “Oh my god; I don’t believe this....”

“Alex, you are truly the brightest girl I have ever known; and yet, when it comes to my interest in you, you are frightfully dense.”

“No, I’m not! I just—if anyone else had treated me the way you do, I would have figured they wanted me, at least in bed; but you—you’re different. You’re not just some everyday man who wants normal things. I thought I was being practical by assuming I meant nothing to you; you didn’t seem the type to ever want a relationship.”

“That’s because I wasn’t. Not until I started spending time with you. I’ve never interacted with anyone the way I do with you. To be perfectly frank, I wasn’t entirely sure of my own motivations in seeking you out; but something about you captured my attention immediately, and I couldn’t delay initiating contact. The more we became acquainted and I discovered how much I enjoyed your company, the more fascinated I became—not to mention possessive. As you’ve surely noticed.” He fingered the most recent mark he’d bestowed on my neck.

I shook my head again and chuckled in disbelief.

“Why does this surprise you? We operate in a similar fashion and we enjoy spending time together. It’s a practical arrangement.”

“I suppose it is,” I sighed. _And only he would call a relationship a “practical arrangement.”_

We spoke for a few more minutes before succumbing to sleep. It had been a long day, full of excitement, and we were now exhausted. I could only imagine what the next two weeks would bring.

* * *

My mood oscillated dramatically over the next few days. On one hand, I was thrilled to be in a relationship with such a powerful man; but on the other hand, I had no idea what to expect from this venture. How long would Tom want me? How would he expect me to conduct myself, in and out of his home, now that he essentially owned me? Did he want his followers to know that we were together? Assuming I became a Death Eater within the next couple of months, would my private life remain private among the group? I certainly couldn’t announce my relationship to anyone else. And if I were a successful Death Eater, but Tom lost interest in me after a while, would he begin treating me badly during meetings? I would probably have to act like nothing had ever happened between us.

I wondered if he’d ever been involved with any female Death Eaters—just because he’d never brought anyone to his home didn’t mean he’d been celibate for years. I found myself wanting to know the other girls or women with whom he’d been intimate, hoping they could give me some pointers on what to expect. Unfortunately, Tom was very tight-lipped about his past and would entertain no questions on the subject. I had to fend for myself.

It wasn’t like he was threatening my life or torturing me; I was simply unsettled after being catapulted into such a bizarre situation without warning. I’d had no time to mentally prepare myself.

Still, even though I was a lot more comfortable around Tom than I’d been back in the spring, there were times when I was afraid to speak my mind around him. Just because I was no longer addressing him as _My Lord_ didn’t mean that his disposition had changed.

It also didn’t matter that he’d recently told me I could ask him anything; his reaction when I’d posed questions about his sexual history had scared me into silence. He’d seemed so offended that I’d assumed he was sleeping with other people. I figured I would remain silent unless prompted to speak, as I often did regardless of my audience, and hope that I would gather some answers to my questions over time.

Some answers came halfway through winter break. Answers that sent me reeling yet again.

“I can’t wait until you’re finished at Hogwarts,” Tom remarked one morning after breakfast. We had just stood up from the table and I made to leave the dining room—until he pulled me up against the wall.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“You’re going to come and live with me, of course.”

I gaped.

“I assume this won’t be a problem,” he challenged, cocking his head to the side as he stared me down.

“Oh! I—no, no; that’s not what I—”

“Then why the expression of alarm? Are you afraid?” He was smirking again. Despite his twisted version of affection, I could tell that he still enjoyed scaring me out of my wits.

“I just...it’s all s-so much, so soon,” I stammered. “I’m still in shock over being in a relationship with you, and now—now I’m wondering if all my plans for the future are suddenly invalid.”

“ _All_ of them?!” His eyes flashed.

“Other than being a Death Eater, I mean.”

“How so?”

“I was planning on looking for work after winter break, because I don’t want to have to go back to my parents’ house. I don’t even want to stay there temporarily; I’m done with their bullshit. My plan was to secure a weekend job soon, so that I could put down a deposit on a flat as soon as I graduated.”

Tom chuckled. “You are correct that you’ll be staying in England. I’d planned on that much already.”

“What?”

“You really think I’d let you go all the way back to America? To people who despise me and want to see me imprisoned? You belong with _me;_ not them.”

“How were you planning on stopping me from going back? Not that I want to go back; I’m just wondering.”

“After the graduation ceremony, I will come to collect you. That’s been my plan all along, since I decided to make you mine.”

I stared dumbly for a moment, struggling to collect my thoughts. “You’re not coming to Hogwarts, are you?”

“Of course not. I’ll be in our usual meeting place, and you will sneak away under your cloak as per usual. No one will realize you’re gone until it’s too late.”

I was torn between relief and horror. It was nice to know that I’d soon be calling a sprawling, undetectable mansion my home; but I’d also been looking forward to picking out a home for myself—even if it was a seedy flat in a shoddy part of London. I wanted to know how it felt to accomplish that on my own, the way everyone else did at my age. My parents had stunted my growth enough that I had yearned for independence since I was a little girl. Would I ever _really_ be independent, now?

“I wouldn’t want to possess a fragile, helpless baby,” he drawled, responding to my unspoken thoughts for the umpteenth time. “You are as capable as they come; but you also require protection.”

“Why?”

“Because you belong to me. However long it takes, our relationship _will_ one day become public knowledge. Make no mistake. I cannot keep this information secret forever, but I can shield you from the Ministry. Aurors will be searching for you relentlessly—first, after you disappear from Hogwarts; and second, after the truth gets out. If they ever get their hands on you, they’ll try to use you to get to me. They might even kill you.

“In order to ensure your safety, I must keep you hidden from the outside world. This estate is the only location where you will ever be truly protected. You need this, and you need me.”

My mouth went dry as Tom’s words sunk in. This was not a frivolous affair—he was deadly serious about me.

“You are mine,” he repeated, as if I had ever forgotten.

“I know,” I whispered.

Over time, I would surely come to understand this declaration more thoroughly. All my questions would be answered one day; I just needed to be patient and trust in Tom’s process. I had no other choice. As dangerous as he was, he was also fiercely protective and I was beginning to feel safe with him. Whether that feeling of security would hold was yet to be seen, but I knew that remaining by his side was my best option.

When all was said and done, I really _was_ quite lucky. And I had earned it.


	7. Alternate Beginning 2 | Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This alternate beginning, like the previous one, follows Tom’s ruminations on different methods of acquiring Alex. Here, he sends a group of Death Eaters to Hogsmeade to fetch her. There are four chapters.

_“Evening, gentlemen,” the Dark Lord greeted the six Death Eaters he’d summoned to his initiation room. “Tonight, I present you with a most unusual assignment.”_

_“What is it, my Lord?” one asked._

_“A girl. I require you to bring her to me.”_

_“Who is she?” inquired another._

_“Her name is Alex Halaway. She is a seventh-year Hogwarts student. Slytherin House. Aspiring Death Eater who has spent months—perhaps years—thinking of ways to assert her interest in joining our cause. She is currently on her way to Hogsmeade with a group of peers. Fetch her there, using any means necessary, and bring her here alive. Subdue her if she becomes aggressive, but do not kill her. I will deal with any injuries she sustains.”_

_The men exchanged looks—it_ was _a unique request. Since when did the Dark Lord desire the presence of a girl? Since when did he even care about such matters? They weren’t sure they wanted to know their master’s intended purpose for the young lady, given his lackadaisical disdain for her safety, but they had no choice but to obey._

_“W-what does she look like, my Lord?”_

_“Pale. Thin. Long black hair. Very beautiful. Wearing all black—she has quite a morbid aesthetic. You’ll spot her immediately.”_

_“Where in Hogsmeade is she going?”_

_“Likely the Three Broomsticks. Oh—and one more thing: she’s American. Her accent will give her away, if nothing else.”_

_“My Lord...may I ask what purpose she will serve for you?”_

_Voldemort sneered. “I’m going to make her my wife.”_

_“Oh!” exclaimed another Death Eater before he could stop himself. “Well—ah, congratulations, my L—”_

_“Spare me the sentimental rubbish, Selwyn,” the Dark Lord snapped, waving off his brown-nosing soldier. “I’ve no interest in romance. The girl is valuable, and she will be joining my table as well as my bed. And you will not reveal this knowledge to anyone until I announce our union sometime in the future. Go now.”_

_A chorus of “Yes, my Lord,” followed the command before the men Disapparated._

* * *

I always loved visiting Hogsmeade during the wintertime. When fresh snow blanketed the countryside, everything looked more peaceful and serene. The crisp air sent a pleasant chill through my body as I breathed, almost like drinking ice water after a brisk run. I also enjoyed how much less crowded the streets were. Most people were loathe to trudge around in the snow unless they had to, and I savored the peace and quiet.

The evening before winter break began, a few of my Housemates decided to go to Hogsmeade. I wasn’t sure if I would join them—sometimes they invited me, and sometimes they didn’t. I didn’t care either way; as a solitary creature, I craved alone time and took no offense when my peers didn’t want me around.

“Alex, do you want to come?” asked Monica.

_I guess they_ are _including me this time._ “Sure!” I replied. I zipped down to the girls’ dormitory to put my book on my bedside table, cast a warming spell, and then followed the others out of the castle.

We traipsed into The Three Broomsticks and took our butterbeers to a booth near the back of the pub. Most of the other occupants were more into the holiday spirit than we were, and we only wanted to talk and relax. Thankfully, the rowdier patrons left us alone.

We’d previously been working ourselves into a tizzy studying for NEWTs, which were now only a few short months away. The holiday provided a much-needed break. We spoke in hushed tones as we sipped our drinks, content to pass the time without a rush. As always, The Three Broomsticks did not disappoint.

Until screams erupted.

I jerked my head up and gasped at the sight: six masked, cloaked figures barging into the pub like they owned the place.

_“Death Eaters!”_ someone hissed.

A few people began drawing their wands. I contempleted doing just that, but then realized that such a move would paint me as an adversary. It was better to stay in the background. As my eyes darted around, looking for the best places to take cover, one of the hooded figures spoke.

“There is no need to panic!” he drawled, like he was speaking to young children afraid of the dark. “No one will be harmed as long as we get what we came for.”

“And what have you come here for?” asked the bartender, her voice trembling as much as her body.

A pregnant pause followed, during which time the Death Eaters looked around to appraise the patrons. The tension in the air was thick as everyone attempted to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

When the man finally spoke, his answer sent a chill down my spine.

“Alex Halaway.”

My heart dropped. I had to have misheard him. What would Death Eaters want with me? Yes, I was planning to join them someday, but they were talking about me like an escaped prisoner. _That_ wasn’t the induction I’d hoped for. There must have been a mistake....

Could I pretend the sound of my name on his lips hadn’t affected me? Could I act like just a regular person here for a pint and chitchat?

Unfortunately, my friends couldn’t think on their feet the way I could. They all glanced at me upon hearing my name, and the Death Eaters immediately looked in our direction. I had never felt so exposed.

“Ahh, it must be you,” remarked the cloaked man, staring directly at me. “The American girl, right? Come with us, now.”

I shakily rose to my feet and tried to will my heart to stop hammering—I was scared, yet also strangely excited. As much as I wanted to join the Dark Lord’s followers, this was hardly the first meeting I had wanted. I had no idea what these men were doing here, searching for me. There was no way for me to know if I was safe or not.

“What do you want with me?” I asked, speaking slowly and clearly so as not to appear terrified.

“Come with us and we’ll tell you.”

“Or maybe you could tell me now.”

“Don’t make this difficult,” he snapped. “For every minute you refuse to come with us, we will kill one person in this room. Do you want their blood on your hands?”

“I am not responsible for others’ behavior,” I shot back. “If you choose to kill someone, it’s not my fault.”

“I see why he fancies her,” mumbled the man next to him. “What a cold-blooded little bitch.”

“Who? Who fancies me?” I demanded, ignoring the insult.

“Again: come with us and we’ll tell you.”

I folded my arms and stared back at my challengers. They could murder every person in this pub for all I cared. Perhaps a fight would begin after too many lives had been lost, and I could escape as the battle erupted. Or maybe someone would come into the pub and duel the killers, distracting them from their target. Either way, I decided to stall as long as I could.

“Fine, Miss Halaway. Since you care so little for the lives of your fellow citizens, I will make this worth your while: _Expelliarmus!”_

I yelped as my wand flew into his outstretched hand.

“If you refuse to comply, I will snap your wand in half and burn the pieces. And there’s no telling how much damage your body can endure without a way to defend yourself. We have orders to take you in alive, but that doesn’t mean you won’t suffer irreparable harm in the process. Now get over here.”

As I opened my mouth to protest, the Death Eater held out my wand in both hands and closed his fists around it. He was nanoseconds away from breaking it.

“NO!” I shouted, and ran toward the swath of black capes in a blinding rage. When I reached out to grab my wand, three pairs of hands gripped me and pulled me back. I growled.

“Theeerre we are,” drawled the man who was now fisting my hair. “Let’s go.”

The Death Eaters marched me outside, while one of them cast a Memory Charm on everyone in the pub. “No one will remember seeing you here, so don’t even entertain the notion of a search party,” he proclaimed as he trailed his wand over me. “And no one will see us outside, as we’ve already cast the necessary spells on this whole area. All the people in the surrounding shops are suddenly _very_ busy.”

I looked around and realized that we were, in fact, quite alone. The hands gripping my arms now felt more ominous than before.

“All right, what is this about?” I demanded, trying to muster up more anger than terror. “And who _fancies_ me? The Giant Squid?!”

“The Dark Lord, of course.”

“What?!” I threw my head back and cackled. Was this someone’s fucked up idea of a practical joke? I’d never heard such an absurd statement in my life.

The men seemed too perplexed by my response to speak further.

“You’re joking,” I jeered as I felt my confidence returning. “You have _got_ to be shitting me.”

They all glanced at each other, still completely baffled. No one spoke.

This was surely a prank, and I would not fall for it. “Seriously, are you guys even Death Eaters at all? Or are you just some immature assholes playing pranks because you’re bored? I suggest you find a new hobby. And give me back my fucking wand while you’re at it.”

“Now, now, is that any way to speak to a comrade?” one of them scolded in a patronizing tone.

“Comrade? _Excuse_ me?”

“We hear you want to become one of us.”

My cocky smirk vanished. I had never once revealed my secret aspirations.

“Where did you hear this.”

“The Dark Lord told us.”

I flinched. “How would he know? And how does he even know who I am? I haven’t told anyone that I want to be a Death Eater.”

“We know as much as you do. We don’t ask questions when he gives us an assignment. You’d do well to remember that—especially since you want to impress him so badly. We’re on strict orders to bring you to him.”

“For what purpose?”

“Should we tell her?” the man on my right asked, sounding amused.

“Tell me what?!”

An aggravatingly long pause ensued, before the Death Eater behind me finally spoke. “He intends to marry you.”

“WHAT?! No. _No._ Absolutely not. That is the most ridiculous bullshit I have ever heard. If you truly are Death Eaters, you’ve spent enough time around the Dark Lord to know that he’d never be interested in marriage. Merlin’s beard; even _I_ know that. Why are you _really_ here! Are you a group of underground criminals dressed up as Death Eaters, trying to sell me into a sex-trafficking ring or something?! Cause let me tell you: I’d rather you snap my wand in half than whore me around! Go on; do it! And then get out of my fucking face! I’ll go back to London and buy a new wand tomorrow. Wood is replaceable...though not the kind of wood you assholes are probably thinking about right now. I’ll snap that shit in half myself if you don’t back off. I could—”

“Miss Halaway, the Dark Lord’s fascination with you is not something to be taken lightly,” warned the soldier gripping my left arm. “We’ve wasted enough time already. I don’t fancy being tortured a second time this week.”

“You probably deserved it,” I muttered under my breath.

The man backhanded me across the face. “Stop mouthing off, you insolent little girl! I, too, have no bloody idea why he wants to marry someone so belligerent, but I’m not one to question him. No more dawdling. Let’s go.”

Gripping me even more tightly, the group whisked me out of Hogsmeade.

My head was spinning as we landed on solid ground—whether from the slap, the Apparition, or the reason behind it, I had yet to discern. But I had no time to ponder my confusion, or the throbbing pain in my cheek, as I locked eyes with the man I had secretly idolized for years. He was standing twenty feet away in this large room that resembled an empty dungeon.

Though exuding regal poise and power, an image to which I aspired, he had ordered men to kidnap me. He clearly viewed me less as a person, and more as an object to be possessed. I wasn’t sure if I idolized him so much anymore.

“And there’s my prize,” he drawled with a smirk.

My blood ran cold at his words. His triumphant sneer was devilishly handsome, and yet terrifying at the same time, even from a distance. My lower lip quivered.

“Her wand, my Lord,” said one of the Death Eaters as he broke from the group and strode toward his master.

“No! _NO!!”_ I shouted as the cloaked man handed over my wand. The others had to restrain me more forcefully to stop me from lunging forward.

“Relax, love,” the Dark Lord told me as I struggled. “You’ll get it back eventually—if you behave.”

I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. Part of me was still in denial about everything that had just transpired—even that the Dark Lord had wanted to meet me at all—until he appraised me with a lascivious grin as he walked straight toward me. I squirmed and tried to inch back out of his reach, but his soldiers were still holding me in place.

“You’re even more beautiful up close,” he murmured as he cupped my chin and lifted my head up. “Especially with your eyes widened in fear. Absolute perfection.”

I couldn’t look away. I wanted to, but I was somehow rooted to the spot. The cold hands gripping my face amplified my terror—the Dark Lord was no longer a class discussion, a daydream, or a paragraph in a book. He was a living, breathing man looking at me with a barely-restrained hunger that chilled me to the bone.

He abruptly pulled away and regarded his followers. “Leave us,” he barked. The men released me and Disapparated without another word.

And then we were alone.


	8. Alternate Beginning 2 | Chapter 2

I whipped my head around the large, empty room, hardly able to believe that I was alone with the Dark Lord. And not as a potential recruit. As much as his Death Eaters had scared me, I realized that I’d taken some measure of comfort in the buffer they had provided between myself and their master. He wouldn’t touch me inappropriately with an audience.

I found myself almost missing the soldiers who had taken my wand and abducted me from Hogsmeade. I had no buffer now.

The tall man circled me a few times, looking me up and down and noting my responses. What was he thinking? Did he know what I was thinking? Would he hurt me? How badly?

Several times I tried to speak, but the words died on my tongue before I could make a sound. I wanted to scream, cry, rage, and break glass for other people to step on barefoot. What had I done to deserve this?

“Why?” was all I could muster.

“Why what, sweetheart?”

“Why am I here?”

“Did they not tell you?”

“They said—they said that you wanted to...marry me.”

“Yes.”

“But...why? Why me?”

“Why not you? Who else thrives in the darkness as much as I? Who else can match my intelligence and voracious appetite for knowledge? Who else possesses the tenacity to sneak around Hogwarts and study the Dark Arts without fear of getting caught? Most other teenagers, if given an invisibility cloak, would cause childish mischief and mayhem. You, on the other hand, use it to gain forbidden knowledge simply because you love to learn. I find it admirable.”

I gaped. How did he know about my research? How could I make a case for him to change his mind and leave me alone? When had he decided to claim me? And how long had it taken him to come to such a conclusion?

“I—I’m just a kid. I’m not old enough for that. And I’m not exactly likeable—I’m antisocial and selfish and obnoxious and I don’t even care! I intimidate everyone; even teachers! No one wants to be...I... _I’m not relationship material!”_

The Dark Lord cackled at my feeble attempt at turning him off. “You’re not relationship material to _normal_ men; alas, I am far from a normal man. I am extraordinary. And only you are worthy of my attention. You should feel honored that I have chosen you.”

“But I haven’t—I’ve never...I promise, I don’t think you’d like being with me. Hardly anyone even wants to be friends with me, and no one has ever _wanted_ me—not yet, anyway. Everyone knows my reputation and—”

“No one else wants you, full stop. Not that that would have deterred me, either way.” The arrogant smirk returned. “And besides, teenager or not, you know more about the Dark Arts than anyone else your age. Quite an accomplishment. You will serve me well in many ways.”

“But I’m—I’ve never...I’ve _read_ about the Dark Arts, but I’ve never actually practiced them. I wanted to just...my goal was to become a Death Eater and learn more that way, and that—”

“You _will_ learn more. I will teach you. Your lack of experience—in the Dark Arts as well as _other_ matters—is easily remedied.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he reached out and grabbed me before I could get the words out. The crushing dizziness of Apparition enveloped me again.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing opposite the Dark Lord in an enormous library. Such a sight would normally have excited me, but the current circumstances prevented me from feeling happy.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Home. My home. And soon to be yours as well.”

I could think of nothing to say. I simply stared.

“You will be here all through the holiday,” he continued. “so let me explain how the next two weeks will pan out: during the day, I will train you in the Dark Arts. You will practice alone after I’ve taught you for a few hours each morning, in order to build proficiency, after which time I will have you demonstrate your improvements. Assuming I am satisfied with your work, you will have some time to yourself during the evening. And at night, you will sleep by my side.”

I bit back a sob.

“This is not a negotiation—you _will_ cooperate.”

I clenched my fists and looked at my feet; I could no longer retain eye contact with this man.

“I have some work to finish now,” he said dryly, as if he didn’t have a terrified kidnapped girl shaking before him. “For the remainder of this evening, you may do whatever you’d like. You may wander about the house; if you’re hungry, summon the house elves and they will cook you a hot meal; or you may avail yourself of my library. This house is yours as well as mine, and you are welcome to roam anywhere you wish. As long as you don’t even _think_ about trying to escape, no harm will befall you. I will come to collect you before I retire for the night.”

He was gone before I had fully registered his words.

With a heavy sigh, I sank to the floor and doubled over, clutching my scalp as I willed myself not to vomit.

_Whatever he has planned for me, I can handle it,_ I thought, trying hard to convince myself. It wasn’t working.

Part of me was still in denial. I had been in Hogsmeade with my friends less than ten minutes ago, planning to relax for a few hours before going back to school for the holiday. How was this real? How was this not a nightmare? Even with my wild imagination, I’d never even considered such a bizarre event. And it had happened so fast, I felt like my brain was still trying to catch up. I kept mentally retracing my steps and narrating everything that had happened, like I was telling someone a story, hoping that would somehow ground me.

After a while, I reluctantly rose to my feet and began meandering aimlessly around the library. I knew that if anything could distract me from my predicament, it would be a book.

I settled on a murder mystery about 300 pages long. I didn’t want to read anything that would remind me of a textbook, as that would only reinforce what was currently happening. Losing myself in a fantasy novel seemed a safer bet. Curling up on a cozy chair also helped me relax.

The distraction must have worked, because I was halfway through the book when a sharp tug on my hair jolted me back to the present. The Dark Lord had silently crept up behind me while I’d been engrossed in the story, and I had to fight back more tears when I realized that my alone time was over.

He’d bunched up my hair in his fist and jerked my head back, and now he was placing firm kisses up and down my neck.

I wasn’t sure what scared me more—his sudden presence behind me, or the goosebumps racing down my arms when his lips touched my flesh. What on Earth was that about? I didn’t _want_ to be here. I didn’t want...him. I _knew_ I didn’t.

“Rise,” he whispered in my ear, not letting go of my hair.

I gazed forlornly at the book, not wanting to turn around and face my captor. If I could have had just a few more hours alone—

“You’ll pick up where you left off tomorrow,” he assured me as I shakily rose to my feet.

Though I relaxed a bit when he released my hair, my stomach dropped at the sight that greeted me: the Dark Lord was standing before me wearing nothing but a silky black bathrobe. His hair was slightly damp, and the pleasant scent of soap and shampoo lingered around him. Had he been a picture in Witch Weekly, instead of an evil maniac who had abducted me, I would have found the image quite enticing.

He appeared almost harmless, save for the hunger in his eyes. There was no question of his intentions.

I kept my eyes straight ahead as he took my waist and led me out of the library. The house really was beautiful; at least I could appreciate the fine architecture even through my panic.

“What book were you reading?” he asked as we climbed the stairs.

I told him the title, finding it odd that he’d be interested in small talk—but then again, I’d never thought he’d be interested in _me._ Despite all my research and preparation, I truly had no idea how to handle this man. I felt like a rabbit in the lion’s den.

“Ah, quite a good story,” he remarked, as if our current arrangement were perfectly ordinary. “I read it myself a few months ago. How do you like it so far?”

“It’s—it’s good,” I replied, barely above a whisper. How could I calmly discuss the plot of a novel when I was minutes away from being raped?

We were now in front of his bathroom, and he gestured for me to go inside.

“You’ll find everything you need in there to wash up,” he told me. “Come join me when you’re finished.”

I hated the slight swagger in his stride as he walked down the hall, and the leering smirk he gave me before closing his bedroom door. Clenching my teeth, I grimaced and slipped into the bathroom.

I took a minute to try—unsuccessfully—to calm my nerves, and then looked around the enormous bathroom. My eyes bugged out when I saw what was on the lowest shelf of the medicine cabinet: lined up neatly were a few tubes of silver lipstick, a bottle of black nail polish, and my favorite brand of eye makeup.

“Are you fucking serious?” I whispered to no one. Shaking my head in bewilderment, I walked over to the shower and opened the glass door. My preferred shower products just happened to be inside.

_How the hell does he know??_

I realized I probably shouldn’t be surprised, given everything else he’d already learned about me.

A few feet away was a small shelf with a few dark green towels. _How appropriate for the ultimate Slytherin,_ I thought _._ I reached up and ran my hand along one of them. The material was so soft, it almost made me smile.

I focused on every minute detail of my nightly routine to try and take my mind off of what would happen after I left the bathroom. Attempting to go on autopilot, I mechanically turned on the water in the shower, adjusted the temperature, and glanced behind me before stepping into the stall and closing the glass door.

I tried to enjoy my shower. The warm water was soothing, but I kept finding myself looking anxiously toward the bathroom door to make sure I was still alone. I realized that I had just become very self-conscious about washing myself, which was quite unnerving because I’d never been terribly insecure with my body—my current situation, however, had instantly turned all of that upside-down. I was suddenly hyper aware of every part of my body and every move I made.

_I hope he’s not watching me somehow._

My stomach flipped.

_He could barge in here right now and there’d be nothing I could do._

Cringing at the mental image of the Dark Lord standing opposite me and running his hands all over my body, I finished my shower in a hurry to try and banish these disturbing thoughts—and also to ignore how warm my face suddenly felt. It had quickly become suffocatingly hot. I craved the cooler air outside the shower stall.

But why? Why was my body heating up? I didn’t—I didn’t _want_ this man. I didn’t even want to be in his house. Was there truly nothing I could do to convince him to let me go? Or at least to let me sleep somewhere else? All I’d wanted was for him to mentor me. Maybe if I could persuade him to take things a bit slower....

As I stepped out of the shower, I briefly entertained the notion of leaving my hair a tangled mess; I thought that if I walked into the Dark Lord’s bedroom all sloppy-looking, then perhaps he wouldn’t want to touch me—and I nearly laughed aloud at the absurdity. _Oh please, Alex. He’d find a way to fix you up in no time._ I reached for my wand and cast drying spells on my hair and skin, and wrapped one of the larger towels around my body.

My feet wouldn’t move.

Panic rooted me in place, and I could barely even breathe. My hands gripped the towel tightly enough to cramp my fingers as I began trembling. Tears pricked my eyes.

What the Dark Lord was planning would not excite me; I knew that much. But could I at least tune him out and go somewhere else inside my head? Such behavior normally came easily.

No; dissociation wouldn’t work now. I was trapped, kidnapped, and about to be brutally assaulted. There were no two ways around it, and nothing I could do to stop it from happening.

_Move!_ I told myself. _You can’t stay here forever. The longer you wait, the more impatient he’ll get, and then Merlin knows what he’ll do to you. Whatever happens is going to happen, no matter how much you delay it. Put your game face on and get it over with._

Barely aware of my movements, I slowly opened the bathroom door and padded down the hall, taking one last deep breath as my hand closed around the cold brass doorknob.


	9. Alternate Beginning 2 | Chapter 3

“Hello, beautiful.”

The Dark Lord was sitting in his bed, resting his back against the headboard. He looked up from the book on his lap when he heard me come in.

The bedroom was as lavish as the rest of his house. Between the huge four-poster bed, the stone walls, and the antique furniture, this was a chamber fit for a king. It appeared a fancier version of the Slytherin dorms, which I’m sure he’d arranged on purpose, given his affection for the school. Perhaps if I just pretended I was back at Hogwarts....

I flinched when he pointed his wand in my direction. Squeezing my eyes shut, I braced myself for a curse—and jumped in surprise when, instead, I heard the door shut and lock behind me. For the briefest moment, I thought of turning around and testing the door, seeing if it really was locked, but I knew such an act would only invite punishment.

My body sagged in defeat as the Dark Lord extended his hand and gestured for me to join him. I walked toward the bed as slowly as I could, trying not to collapse as my heart thumped.

“Come,” he ordered quietly, patting the empty spot next to him. I bit my lip and climbed onto the bed, gripping the towel tighter to prevent it from slipping. He was probably about to tear it off of me, but I needed this last moment of dignity—what was left of it, at least. I adjusted my position and drew my knees up to my chest.

“Lie down.”

Again, I couldn’t move. My body froze. I only obeyed his command when he hooked his fingers under my towel and began tugging me toward him.

The mattress was luxuriously soft, but I had no idea how I’d be able to fall asleep on it. Given what the Dark Lord was about to do to me on top of that mattress, I would have preferred to sleep on the floor.

“You don’t have to do this.”

The pathetic words had escaped my mouth before I realized it, and all I could do was stare up at the ceiling while trying to slow my hammering heart.

“Oh, but I do.”

I looked at him in disbelief, ice prickling up my spine as his gaze wandered over my body.

“Why?”

“I’m the one who should be asking that. Why are you acting like the victim of a crime? Do you expect me to behave like the cliché fairytale monster and brutalize you until you’re inches away from death?”

“Yes....”

“Oh no, my dear. My plans for you are far more pleasurable.”

“Wh—what?”

“You’ll be clinging to me and begging for more by the end of the night. See, I know you better than you know yourself. I have been studying you for months, and I know exactly what I’ll need to do to satisfy you. You think you don’t want to be here—you’re so stubborn that you would rather feel sorry for yourself, like a delicate little waif, rather than admit that I just brought you a huge stroke of luck.”

“What—how is this lucky? And I am _not_ delicate!”

He smirked, clearly amused at his ability to rile me up. “Of course not, love. But you’re certainly acting like it. The cowering...the caving into yourself...that breathy, pleading voice you’re using....”

“What?! How can you say such a thing? You kidnapped me, took my wand, took away my ability to—”

“Oh, _kidnapping._ What a dreadful word. You act like you’re a prisoner in a bloody dungeon; when you’re actually about to receive everything you’ve ever wanted. Are you truly too thick to see that?”

“How can you—”

“Were you weak, I’d want nothing to do with you. I’d have not an ounce of respect for you—and I’d certainly not want to marry you. I’d see you as nothing more than a beautiful body; and, as such, I would rape you until you died and then leave your corpse to rot out in the wilderness. A little snack for the local wildlife.”

“I—”

“But I _do_ respect you. I see your value in a way that no one else ever has. You’ve grown up abused, ostracized, and taken for granted—so, of course, you secretly desire the polar opposite: a man who craves you like his last meal. A man who will do absolutely anything to possess you.” His eyes flashed red. “And here I am.”

I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Dozens of questions whirred through my mind, but I didn’t know where to begin.

“Fighting me will only bring you pain,” he continued. “We have much in common, which you will discover over the next few weeks—have you not already, through your research—and I am certain that you will soon return my affections. You won’t be able to resist. You may as well give in now and allow yourself to have some fun.”

All I could do was stare. _THAT was certainly not what I’d been expecting._

Unless he was lying.

He’d lied to many people, charming and manipulating them to do his bidding, and murdering dissenters. I pondered various scenarios that would have motivated him to lie about his intentions toward me, wondering what I could be overlooking. Suspicious as I always was, I felt more comfortable believing that he was full of shit.

But a (very small) part of me wondered if he was telling the truth. In some ways, he was right—I _had_ never been treated properly as a child, and I had very few allies at school. I’d only recently had a tiff with my sister because she was too scared to do more with her first boyfriend than lock lips, while I was chomping at the bit to experience such things. I was one of the only seventh-years who hadn’t at least been kissed yet. The prospect of being ravished by a powerful, attractive man had always enticed me, and perhaps the Dark Lord had a point.

Be that as it may, he had sent soldiers to kidnap me. On top of that, my subsequent terror had excited him, and he’d warned me to not even _think_ about escaping. That was not how a person treated someone they admired. But, as he’d reminded me earlier, he was not a normal man. Though I’d long since figured this out, holding no delusions about his morality, I’d also never imagined myself in his bed.

His idea of respect clearly did not match mine. And I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Though his methods of asserting interest were far from conventional, there _was_ something attractive about his going to such absurd lengths to acquire the object of his desire. My own morality was far from righteous, anyway, so perhaps I was simply reaping what I’d sown.

“What you are reaping is a reward for your tenacity,” he whispered in my ear before moving his lips to my neck. “You are here for your own benefit as well as mine.”

_Oh god, that’s right...he’s a Legilimens. I’m in trouble._

He chuckled against my skin, making me shiver. “You’ll only land in trouble if you disobey me. As rebellious as you are, you’re also not stupid. You know when it is necessary to sacrifice your pride. This is one of those moments.”

_But I do hate those moments. Fuck._

I almost wondered if being raped would be preferable. I was accustomed to being victimized, but I was _not_ in the habit of having my deepest secrets gleefully scrutinized by someone a thousand times more powerful than I. This type of humiliation was a new breed. I was not equipped to fight it.

He grabbed my chin and jerked my head to the side so he could look into my eyes. “If that’s really what you want, I will be _more_ than happy to oblige! Merlin, Alex, you stubborn little—”

“No! No! It was just a fleeting thought! I don’t _want_ to be assaulted!”

“Then you’d better start accepting your position. I require your trust as well as your compliance.” His cold stare spiked my terror again. My spine tingled.

He softened his gaze after a moment, watching me curiously as I weighed my options.

“You really do...want me to like it?” I asked quietly.

“Of course. Coitus is always more enjoyable when both parties are enthusiastic; I won’t have to waste half my energy subduing you.”

I swallowed hard. _Should I give in and just...see what happens?_

“Don’t get me wrong: I’d still take immense pleasure in forcing you; but I’ll glean far more satisfaction from the knowledge that you willingly placed your faith in me.”

Chewing on my lip, I looked away from him and pondered each scenario. If he assaulted me, it would feel like just another form of mistreatment. My parents had abused me, verbally and physically, so I was no stranger to violence; but that didn’t mean I wanted to invite more of it just because it was familiar. I was sick of feeling like a victim.

On the other hand, giving my power over to the Dark Lord would terrify me—but if he was actually telling the truth when he promised I would enjoy it....

“You know the answer,” he murmured. “I need you to say it aloud.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me that you will obey me and trust me with your pleasure.”

I blinked.

“Will you do that for me?” His fingers lightly trailed over the towel covering my body, tracing the swell of my breasts and the valley of my stomach. All while he stared me down. His words alone would have sounded pleading, but I knew better—the tone in his voice was a mocking challenge. The question had been a demand disguised as a choice.

“I—” The words died on my tongue. My chest constricted as the Dark Lord began unfastening his bathrobe. I kept my eyes firmly on his face—which was slowly moving closer to mine—and fought the urge to bolt out of bed and run for my life.

“Say it. Say it now, or you will not enjoy this night.”

His breath was hot on my face, and his glare ripped straight through me.

“I—I will,” I heard myself sigh, my voice barely audible.

“You will _what.”_

“I will...obey you.”

“Good girl,” he purred, snaking his left arm underneath my neck and gripping the back of my head. His right hand cupped my cheek. “Now, for our first order of business.”

His mouth was on mine a second later, a lot more softly than I was expecting. His hands massaged my scalp as he slipped his tongue into my mouth, and I found myself responding; I _had_ promised to obey him, and there was no point in struggling when I had no chance of winning.

The conflict still raged in my mind, however, and I tried to center myself so as not to lose my nerve. I reminded myself that I had encountered far scarier situations and come out stronger—I had been slapped, purposely tripped up, and humiliated in front of my classmates countless times. I had been bullied and then punished for retaliating, while my abusers walked off scot-free. I had been lied to, betrayed, and gaslit for years. My current situation was indeed unnerving, but the Dark Lord wasn’t harming me; he was just kissing me. And the sensation was actually a bit soothing.

When he withdrew, he had a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Now the real fun begins,” he drawled, climbing on top of me without waiting for a response. He claimed my mouth again, with much more force, while pinning my wrists to the mattress. He moved his body against mine, allowing me to feel the stiffness between his thighs, and I gasped. His only response was to kiss me harder.

Somehow, my body was heating up and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was it curiosity? Morbid fascination? Relief that the Dark Lord wasn’t beating me within an inch of my life? My first time with a man _was_ a big deal, regardless of the events that had led me here, and I supposed anyone would feel nervous in such a state.

The Dark Lord was right about one thing: I _did_ like the thought of feeling wanted. Unable to stop myself, I shivered as his lips trailed down my neck and he inhaled deeply.

“You smell lovely,” he murmured.

The corners of my mouth turned upward just a hair. I tried to hide it, but of course he noticed.

“You’ll be doing more than smiling in a moment,” he teased as he released my wrists. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, so I kept them still—until he began tugging on my towel.

“No!” I gasped, swatting at his hands. “Wait, I—”

He grabbed my hair and sank his teeth into my neck. When I tried to push him off, he merely clamped down tighter and restrained my wrists again. I thrashed beneath him and shrieked as I felt the skin break. Tears streaked down my face.

“You promised to submit to me,” he admonished with bloodstained lips. “That—” He glanced at my neck. “—is only a glimpse of what will happen tonight, should you defy me again.”

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered. “I...I wasn’t thinking. I got scared. I just—”

“Shhhh.”

He placed a finger over my lips to silence me, holding me in place until I closed my eyes and forced my body to relax.

“That’s it,” he soothed before kissing my ear. “That’s a good girl. Give in. Trust me. No more fighting—even in your mind. Just breathe.”

My towel was open a moment later. I stared up at the ceiling, once more trying to slow my heart. I could almost feel the Dark Lord smiling as he watched the cold air harden my nipples, but I couldn’t look at him just yet. I needed another moment alone in my head.

When I opened my eyes, my wrists were again pressed against the mattress, and the Dark Lord was placing slow, passionate kisses all over my breasts. His eyelids were fluttering open and closed as small groans escaped his throat. My eyes widened at the sight.

And then a ripple of desire jolted in between my legs.

I was moaning now, my head falling back onto the pillow. I squeezed my thighs together to assuage the burgeoning ache, which was growing stronger by the second. How? Was this Dark magic? I didn’t see how I could go from hesitant to desperate in a matter of minutes.

“No incantations necessary,” he mumbled before taking a nipple in his mouth. “I simply know what you want. I know about all your twisted fantasies, and I will make them come to life—some of them, anyway. I’m afraid I won’t be able to transform into a demon or vampire king, but I can still satisfy you all the same.”

“Oh my god,” I whimpered. Was there really no way to combat his Legilimency skills? I’d have to learn one day, or he’d never stop tormenting me.

I shuddered as he began sucking harder. He moved his head back and forth, stimulating one nipple and then the other, before releasing my wrists and sitting up to tear off his bathrobe.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered as he threw the garment to the floor.

I bit my lip and complied.

“Wider,” he snapped, though he gripped my knees and completed the act for me. “Stay there. Just like that. Perfect.”

I clutched the pillowcase when I felt warm lips traveling up my inner thigh. As scared as I was, anticipation was winning. Heavy breathing turned to broken moans as the Dark Lord’s mouth closed around my sex. He was clutching my thighs now, kneading the soft flesh while his mouth worked me. His tongue probed and he sucked hard before dragging his tongue up to my clitoris.

Before I realized what was happening, I was rolling my hips and pressing myself against his face. Pleasure washed over me like a tsunami and stopped my breath.

The Dark Lord continued stimulating me, even after the wave had crested, and I came four more times before we were once again face-to-face. I was panting while he appeared calm as ever, studying me as he licked his lips. He buried his face in my neck and wound my legs around his waist.

“Beautiful, delicious girl,” he whispered just before plunging into me. I cried out in pain—and in surprise at his words. I don’t know what I’d been expecting him to say, but I supposed that he thrived on the shock factor no matter what.

As he began to move inside me, I squirmed and clutched the pillowcase even tighter.

“Breathe,” he ordered, his face still pressed against my neck. “The sooner you loosen up, the sooner the pain will dull.”

Loosening up was easier said than done. Even after he began stroking my face and rubbing my head, I found it difficult to stop panting. He eventually pried my fingers off the pillowcase and placed my hands on his shoulders, all while kissing his way across my face and neck. I finally felt the tension leave my muscles, and the sharp pain began to ooze away. I moaned in surprise as pain turned to pleasure.

“Yes,” he whispered, and pressed his lips to mine. He kissed me slowly and firmly, gripping my face as he drove deep inside my body. I was mewling by the time he released my mouth. I threw my arms around his back and held on tightly.

My pride no longer mattered. Embarrassment and modesty were ancient history, and I could barely remember why I’d even hesitated in the first place. Maybe the Dark Lord was right—I had resisted him because I was so accustomed to being victimized, that the thought of getting something I actually wanted had scared me. Granted, my late-night fantasies had never involved him, or being abducted, but he was still making me feel more valuable than anyone had done before. There was no sense in pretending otherwise.

As my body quaked and the Dark Lord shuddered atop me, I wondered if being with him would fulfill me. He clearly wasn’t giving me a choice, but perhaps I could learn to enjoy spending time with him as I grew more accustomed to his presence. As he’d reminded me hours earlier, no one else wanted me. No one else could handle me. Though I knew he wouldn’t treat me like an equal, maybe it would be close enough to that point that I could still feel respected.

I’d have to sleep on it. This wasn’t an issue I could resolve overnight, but I took comfort in the fact that maybe my situation wasn’t as hopeless as I’d initially thought.

* * *

The Dark Lord lay next to me, idly stroking my hand as we caught our breath. He was clearly not one for grand gestures of post-coital affection—not that I’d expected him to enjoy _any_ type of affection, but I’d also never expected to be in his bed.

He had waved his wand to scour away the mess as soon as we’d finished, and then rolled onto his back. Several minutes had passed and neither of us had spoken a word. It was just as well; I could think of nothing to say.

As my heart rate slowed and the adrenaline ebbed, the cold air began raising goosebumps on my skin. I shifted and pulled the dark green blanket over me, earning me a stern glare from the Dark Lord.

“Why are you hiding your body from me?” he demanded, sitting up suddenly. “I’ve already seen every luscious inch of you.”

“I’m cold.”

He nodded curtly. “All right.”

I sighed while sinking into the mattress. The bed really _was_ quite cozy. And it seemed more comfortable than before, now that I wasn’t fearing for my life. I could actually relax a bit. At least—I could relax when my bedfellow wasn’t pointedly staring and scrutinizing my every move.

“Um...may I ask you something?”

“Alex, you’re to be my wife. You may ask me anything.”

“Okay—what do I...call you?”

“A perfectly valid question,” he chuckled. “When I initiate you as a Death Eater, you address me as _My Lord,_ just like everyone else; but when we’re alone, you may call me Tom.”

_Well now. This man is just full of surprises, now isn’t he._

“All right...Tom.”

He smirked and then lay back down. “Sleep now,” he said. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Finally, a command that was easy to obey.


	10. Alternate Beginning 2 | Chapter 4

I awoke conflicted. The previous night had been a rollercoaster, and I felt like I was still trying to regain my footing. As pleasurable as the sex had been, I hadn’t been given a choice in the matter. I resented Tom for rushing me into this arrangement. I wouldn’t have gone through with it if not for the threat of violence. Was that still rape?

Did I even care?

Tom certainly fit the bill for my morbid fantasies, regardless of his methods; and perhaps this was the best-case scenario, as it was. I had no potential suitors, at school or back home in America, and I’d often wondered how long it would take for me to catch a man’s eye as more than a sex object. I intimidated everyone my age. For Merlin’s sake, people sometimes inched away from me if they thought I’d looked at them angrily—even if I’d felt nothing while looking in their general direction. “Please don’t kill me” was a phrase I’d grown quite tired of hearing.

By the time I’d turned fifteen, I’d already half expected to die alone. I’d watched from the sidelines as my peers paired up, whether for serious relationships or hookups with no strings attached, wondering if they ever thought about how lucky they were. I still wanted a companion, even though I hated most people.

And so, after everything I had endured, it certainly felt nice to be wanted—even in such a bizarre scenario.

Still, I hadn’t been given a choice. Tom had stripped me of my agency as well as my clothing. He had promised me pleasure—but only if I obeyed him. Self-preservation had been the driving force in my decision to give myself up to him. How could I make peace with that?

I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest, ruminating on my conundrum. Until a pair of legs wound around mine and strong arms pulled me back against a warm chest.

“What is it?” Tom murmured against my shoulder before kissing it. “You’ve been brooding for the past twenty minutes. Talk to me.”

“Don’t you already know? You’re always inside my head.”

“Of course I know; but you will not shut me out. I don’t tolerate the silent treatment from anyone—especially not from you.”

I sighed and dropped my head to my chest. “I’m just having a hard time with this, okay? You—you _did_ kidnap me. And I appreciate that you want me to enjoy being with you, but it’s all happening so fast and I don’t like _not_ having a say. I’m overwhelmed. And I’m ticked off that you don’t even care.”

Tom rubbed my shoulders and kissed my ear. “Alex, I am the man you are to marry. I’ve learned enough about you that I can say, with confidence, that I understand your needs better than anyone. Yes, my methods are unconventional; but you acknowledged as much yourself: _I_ am unconventional. As are you. What’s the point in a frivolous courtship, full of ridiculous traditions and lame gestures of romance that I don’t want, and nor do you need? I cut to the chase upon acquiring you, as there is no sense in dillydallying. I am as methodical and practical as you are.

“And again: you should feel honored—as you’ve always imagined feeling at the thought of merely becoming my Death Eater. You will be protected from harm, and powerful beyond measure, if you behave properly. I will teach you everything I know, and reward your hard work. You will only suffer if you defy me.”

“What counts as defiance?” I asked. “You may know a lot about me, but I’ve—I haven’t even spent twenty-four hours with you. I don’t know what I’m allowed to say or not. I haven’t had a chance to, well...get used to you.”

“If you disagree with me and speak respectfully, I will hear you out. And you will have plenty of time to grow accustomed to my presence; we have two weeks together before you return to Hogwarts, and then only another six months will pass before I bring you home for good.”

“How—what do you—”

“Assuming you are able to act normally until the end of term, I will owl you instructions for your last day at Hogwarts. I will be waiting for you at a predetermined location, under a Disillusionment Charm, and take you home from there. No one will ever know what happened.”

I was too stunned to speak.

“What’s the problem?”

“I—I thought I would be looking for work after winter break, and then renting a flat in London.”

“No need for that. You will live here with me, and your work will be Death Eater assignments.”

“Oh! Wow, I—”

“As I said last night, you belong to me. You will bear my Mark as well as my ring. Your responsibilities are to me and me alone; not some lowly employer running a little shop in Diagon Alley. I will spend the holiday training you in the Dark Arts, and then I will initiate you into my ranks before you return to school.”

My lips turned upward a bit. I couldn’t help it. _That_ was what I’d been hoping for—at least _some_ part of this arrangement wouldn’t confuse me beyond reason. I couldn’t wait to see what Tom would teach me.

* * *

Dark Arts training was exhilarating. Adding to the thrill of a captivating instructor, the Trace did not work inside Tom’s estate. I could quite literally murder someone in his living room and no one would ever find out.

He taught me several spells that first day, with the promise of more material as soon as I’d mastered each lesson. I was nervous initially, feeling compelled to prove my knowledge after years of extensive research, but Tom warned me not to rush. He reminded me of my own words from the previous evening: reading and practicing were two very different things. I had already prepared as best I could.

Self-imposed pressures aside, I struggled to focus because I was still grappling with the aftermath of my abduction. It was difficult to separate the evil overlord who had kidnapped and bedded me from the charismatic teacher who had missed his calling. My emotions flip-flopped between trepidation over my future and excitement about my success under Tom’s instruction.

I felt more myself when I was casting spells—confident, determined, and unstoppable. Adrenaline zipped through me, and I even bounced on my heels a bit each time I saw my skills improve. The rush was irresistible; aside from my morbid inclinations, I could see why some people claimed that the Dark Arts were seductive! Watching an object twist and contort, and hearing a small animal scream under the effects of a curse, sent sharp thrills coursing through me. Like Tom, I was in my element in these moments. I was a ball of fiery energy growing stronger and stronger with every new lesson I mastered.

But that energy always disintegrated into paralyzing fear when Tom stopped speaking and stared me down, barely blinking, while touching my arm or kissing my face. The temperature seemed to increase by twenty degrees when he stepped in close enough for me to feel his warm breath on my skin. Tension radiated off of him, and apprehension compressed my airway until I could hardly take a full breath. There was no way for me to know if he was looking at me that way because he was using Legilimency, or gauging my reaction to him, or if he was simply...aroused.

I could admit that I did enjoy Tom’s attention, but my mind had not yet caught up to my body’s acceptance of his possession. Each night after he closed the bedroom door, my stomach clenched. My skin prickled. My thoughts whirred, too fast for me to think clearly, when Tom slowly removed my clothing and kissed his way down my trembling body.

Sometimes I simply lay beneath him and allowed him to do whatever he wished. Other times I touched him back, gingerly exploring his flesh in both fascination and fear of what he would do if I appeared less enthusiastic than he. He was satisfied either way—his highest priority was making sure I didn’t try to fight him off. Of course he preferred me throwing my arms around him and moaning his name as my body shuddered in pleasure, but he didn’t make a fuss on the nights when my reactions were less passionate. He wanted my obedience as much as he wanted my body, and I always complied; I knew better than to get smart with him. And I found myself relaxing the more time I spent in his presence—in and out of the bedroom. The more I acted like my regular self, the happier he was.

There were moments when I felt almost safe with him, and others when I felt like a mouse trying to escape a hawk circling a few feet overhead. Unlike an animal about to be destroyed in the wild, however, my predator wanted to destroy me in pleasurable ways—mostly, that is. There were harsh bite marks all over my neck and inner thighs, finger-shaped bruises on my hips, and a sensation like sandpaper in my throat that only went away after I’d drunk a few glasses of water. Screaming and crying for relief, while being teased mercilessly and then forced through several orgasms in a row, took a toll on my vocal cords night after night.

Tom’s appetite was insatiable. He always made sure I was delirious, my face streaked with tears, before he penetrated me. It was not unusual for him to have his face nestled in between my legs for half an hour, gripping my thighs tightly so I couldn’t close them. And he’d keep his gaze locked on mine, only breaking eye contact while groaning in satisfaction as he opened his mouth wide and allowed himself to fully lose control.

I didn’t need to be a Legilimens to know that he could abandon his cold stoicism in bed—the heavy breathing, deep inhalations, and frantic motions of his lips and tongue told me all I needed to know. Primal need consumed him. And I could admit that sometimes, it consumed me, too. When I was aroused enough that I could think of nothing but release, I didn’t even feel the slightest hint of embarrassment when Tom grabbed my hair and forced his cock into my mouth. I gripped the base of the throbbing muscle and sucked eagerly, moaning as much as he was. My hands roved over his thighs and up his torso, aching to feel his physical responses while my mouth stimulated him. I couldn’t believe how much his behavior excited me.

I had no problem acknowledging his sexual prowess and appreciating his devotion to me, but his intensity and lack of concern for my comfort still rattled me. He never listened when I told him to stop or asked for a break; he’d only double down and grip my thighs tighter, granting me a sneer before resuming his sensual assault. He was taunting me, reminding me that he would always coax my body into responding the way he wanted, no matter how much I protested verbally.

I adored him and despised him simultaneously. This only aroused him further.

At least I was finally getting the male attention I’d craved for years. Though the circumstances were rather turbulent, I conceded that Tom had been right about wanting to fulfill my desires and help me reach my potential as a Dark witch. So far, being his partner wasn’t quite as terrifying as I’d initially assumed it would be.

* * *

Our dynamic gradually became more cordial throughout the holiday. I began enjoying his physical attention more, even anticipating it on some nights. And after several days of grappling with my anxious excitement during Dark Arts training, my nerves finally calmed to a manageable level and I moved at a slower, steadier pace in my lessons. Tom was pleased.

I was both thrilled beyond measure and afraid for my safety. The fear was waning, however, after I’d spent two weeks growing accustomed to Tom’s presence. He was as temperamental and cunning as I, and yet rigidly in control of his environment—a luxury I had never before experienced. I wondered if I would ever be that powerful, especially since Tom had chosen me as his wife. Blending in to avoid conflict was one thing, but being able to manipulate my external environment _without_ fearing for my security was new territory. Tom hinted that my circumstances would improve over time, the more I trusted him and learned from his lessons. I had no choice but to believe him; there was no other option. I either worked hard and pleased Tom with my progress and loyalty, or I perished. I didn’t fancy the latter, and nor did he. I could tell that underneath his megalomania, he did respect me in his own way. And I found myself learning to respect him more, too.

He initiated me as a Death Eater the day before I returned to Hogwarts. Initiations were a big deal among the ranks, and so I made sure to be on my best behavior. I breathed slowly and steadily as he summoned his followers to witness my induction into the group, determined to make the best possible impression.

Tom treated me like any other Death Eater who meant nothing to him beyond my skills in battle. I’d already known he would do this; but actually witnessing him act the way I’d imagined before meeting him did feel a bit strange, considering all that had happened between us.

Being branded with the Dark Mark and meeting my new comrades was nerve-wracking. After spending years mentally preparing myself for this momentous day, I could hardly believe that it had already arrived. I managed to navigate my way through the event without too much fanfare, trying to act like a normal Hogwarts student with a proclivity for the Dark Arts—though I sensed that a few of my comrades suspected something between Tom and me. It was his refusal to let me out of his sight, even after he gestured for me to go and mingle with everyone, as well as his anger over one Death Eater’s practical joke: this girl Chicky apparently had a tradition of spewing pink glitter over each new initiate, but Tom did not want me subjected to that. He scolded her and forced her to apologize to me in front of everyone. I was mortified.

Noting my distress, Tom dismissed everyone after a few minutes and took me home.

That night, we were talking about everything that had transpired during the day and what types of Death Eater assignments Tom would give me. He said that we would marry a few months after I’d finished my Hogwarts education and moved in with him, allowing us both time to adjust. To my surprise, I found myself truly enjoying his company, with barely a drop of fear. I felt a spark of hope that perhaps he’d been right all along, and being with him really _was_ the best path for me.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” he muttered after we’d been speaking for about an hour. We’d entered the bedroom moments earlier, still talking.

“Forgot what?”

Smirking, Tom reached into his robes and produced a small black velvet box. Inside was a white gold ring. It had a large square-cut emerald in the center, flanked by a smaller diamond and three tiny ones on either side. The gems sparkled so brilliantly, they almost made me squint. I inhaled shakily as Tom placed the ring on my finger; the cool metal sent shivers up my arm.

“What’s a beautiful bride without a beautiful ring?” he murmured, cupping my face and placing a searing kiss on my lips.

I admired the jewelry for a moment, before my brow furrowed in worry. “What about—well, when I go back to school, how do I explain—”

“You’ll explain nothing. The ring is visible only to us.”

“What?!”

“I placed the necessary enchantments on it so that only we will see it until I announce our union.”

“What do you mean—announce it?”

“The Malfoys hold annual holiday parties for everyone in the ranks. We’ll make our relationship public then.”

My breath halted.

Not one for special attention, good or bad, my stomach churned at the thought of such notoriety. Growing accustomed to Tom’s presence was one thing, but being publicly known as his wife would be an entirely different concept. And given Tom’s infamy, I wasn’t sure I could stomach that much stress—surely, the Ministry would seek to destroy me as much as Tom; I wouldn’t be some faceless Death Eater in a mask, with no one knowing my true identity in battle. Tom hadn’t treated me _too_ differently during my initiation, but I suppose I’d been naïve to think that such a dynamic would continue indefinitely.

“Oh yes, you will be as notorious as I—but remember: this estate is impenetrable. You will be protected here. You’ve no need to worry.”

“You’re—you’re sure?”

“Positive. Cheer up now; you’re receiving everything you’ve ever wanted and more. The time for paranoia is over.”

“I’m not very good at _not_ being paranoid,” I replied with a nervous laugh. “I’m not sure I even know how to fully let my guard down.”

“You’ll get better at it, the more you become accustomed to your new circumstances. Trust me, and everything I teach you, and you will be happier and more relaxed than you ever thought possible. I promise you that.”

“Wow...okay. I’ll do my best.”

He smiled and kissed me again. “Welcome to the rest of your life.”


	11. Alternate Beginning 3 | Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This alternate beginning follows the same pattern as the previous two. In this case, Tom breaks into Alex’s grandmother’s house over the summer, and casts a Memory Charm on her relatives so they’ll forget what happened to her. He then takes her home with him and begins training her in the Dark Arts. Tension mounts over the course of four chapters.

August was, thankfully, almost over. As much as I hated being stuck at home with my family during the sweltering summer months, my spirits always lifted once we were back in England. The tension between my grandmother and the rest of us didn’t even bother me anymore, because the week we spent at her house was always the prelude to my return to Hogwarts.

There were now three days until September 1. I had counted down from the beginning of August, like always, unable to stop myself even though I knew it would make the time drag on more slowly. As impatient as I was, I also couldn’t believe that this was the last August Countdown I would ever have. My seventh year was about to begin, and then I would finally be making my way into the adult world. I squirmed a bit as excitement coursed through me—after years of endless misery, my childhood was coming to a close.

The rest of my family remained oblivious to my impatience. Grandma Rosie was napping in her room, Morgan was doodling in a notebook on the living room floor, and our parents were reading on the couch. These rare moments of silence calmed me—no one was yelling at me, giving me dirty looks, or making snide comments about my attitude when they were focused on other pursuits. I sank into my chair with a quiet sigh, smiling as I returned my attention to my new Charms textbook. I always got a head start on my schoolbooks over the summer, but felt extra pressure now because of NEWT exams.

A _click_ and a shuffling sound in the foyer caught my attention.

“What was that?” I asked. “Is Grandma Rosie coming in from outside? I didn’t hear her leave.”

No response. The door closed quietly.

“Grandma?”

Morgan grabbed her notebook and stumbled backward toward the wall as quiet footsteps grew louder and louder—someone had broken in. Who? For what purpose? This house wasn’t exactly a fortress of wealth. What did the intruder want?

My heart began thumping as I tried to formulate an exit strategy that wouldn’t end with me grievously injured. My parents were also entering fight-or-flight mode, jumping to their feet with their wands extended.

And then a tall figure in black robes rounded the corner and stalked into the room. My mother screamed.

I stared, unblinking with no air in my lungs, like I’d just been Petrified. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing: the man I’d been secretly researching since I was thirteen. The man whose army I’d hoped to join upon completing my education, proudly following his orders with his Mark twisting on my left forearm. The man to whom I’d assumed I’d have to present myself as a worthy soldier, and hope he’d even be interested—I’d worried that I wasn’t old enough or competent enough to join him, but I wanted to at least try.

Now, with him standing in the bloody living room, I could only speculate on his intentions. My family despised him—and though they weren’t particularly loud about their political views, perhaps he had still found out? Was he here to kill them? Would he take all of us out, even though I wanted to join him? Could I communicate my loyalty to him without my parents realizing? My stomach roiled and my hands tightly gripped my robes.

“None of you move!” the Dark Lord snapped. “Wands away this instant, or you all die.”

My parents complied after a moment’s hesitation, their arms shaking violently. I was afraid to even avert my eyes to look at my sister—though I could see her in my periphery, cowering against the wall.

“Good. Very good,” he drawled, training his wand on my parents as if he expected them to fight back wandlessly. “I won’t be here long. In fact, I’ll not harm one hair on your pathetic heads, as long as you give me what I came for. And then, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll all go back to America and stay of out my way.”

“W-what are you here for?” my father stammered. His jaw quivered.

Keeping his wand in position, the Dark Lord raised his left hand and positioned it next to his right. He slowly traced a semicircle in the air—pointing his index finger at my father, and then my mother, and then Morgan.

What on Earth was he doing? Was he planning on kidnapping one of us, and trying to decide on whom? And why? What would he do after the fact? My palms began to sweat as I gripped my robes tighter. I wanted to shrink until I could become invisible—anything to escape this bizarre scene—but I also found myself curious. I was dying to know how the Dark Lord had tracked down my family. What was he planning for us? What would happen if he was not satisfied? Desperate not to call attention to myself, I didn’t even want to breathe.

And then we locked eyes as he pointed directly at my face.

“You.”

My heart dropped. “M-me?” I breathed, pointing to myself as I stared in disbelief.

He nodded and gestured for me to approach him.

“No, _no!_ Why??” my mother sobbed.

“Knowledge not meant for your ears, you stupid woman!” He once more extended his left hand in my direction. “Come along now; don’t keep me waiting.”

_How do I get out of this?_ _If I stay in place, he’ll kill my family. I’m not terribly fond of them; but I also don’t fancy a trip to the Ministry to be tried for their murders. If I go with the Dark Lord, what will he do to me? How much safer will I really be, when I don’t even know what he wants? And anyway, I was planning on joining him soon, so what’s the point of dawdling if I can get a head start? Unless, of course, he’s not interested in recruiting me at all and wants to use me for some other purpose._

What to do?

I probably only deliberated for a few seconds, but it felt like longer. I hadn’t even been aware of having reached a decision when my body suddenly began to move of its own accord—I slowly rose to my feet, took a deep breath, and robotically walked toward the black-clad intruder without breaking eye contact. I only distantly registered my relatives crying and sniffling.

“That’s a good girl,” he hissed, pointing his wand at my parents again as they shifted on the couch. They recoiled.

“What do you want with her??” my mother croaked as the Dark Lord hooked his left arm around my waist and pulled me against him. I froze, my hands gripping the fabric of my robes above my chest while I caved into myself.

“Alex is no longer your concern,” he snapped, holding me tighter. “She belongs to me now. _Obliviate!”_

My relatives’ faces glazed over, staring at nothing. I was about to ask what was going on, when the Dark Lord wrapped his other arm around me and pulled me close. A dizzying, squeezing sensation halted my breath and blurred my vision for the next several seconds.

When my feet finally touched solid ground, I could barely see. We were in a pitch-black room with only a sliver of light peeking in from a far corner. I stumbled and gasped as the Dark Lord released me and then grabbed my wrist to pull me along.

“Wh-what’s going on? How do you know who I am? Where are were going?”

He ignored my questions as he stalked down the hall. I had to jog a bit to keep up with his long strides.

After a few minutes, we arrived in an enormous library that rivaled that of Hogwarts. I gaped as I looked around, barely aware of the hand still grasping my wrist and the thumb lightly rubbing my skin.

He allowed me a moment to get my bearings, still holding my arm, before leading me into a more open area of the library. In the middle of the room was a small black leather couch, situated on top of a dark green rug. Minus the shelves and shelves of books all around, this place reminded me a bit of the Slytherin common room.

“Sit.”

The Dark Lord’s voice was quiet but firm as he finally released me and took a seat on one side of the couch. I sat next to him, not knowing what else to do.

He appraised me silently for a moment, presumably noting my body language, which I tried to keep as neutral as possible. I gingerly turned to face him, placing my palms flat on my knees instead of hiding them in my robes and bunching the fabric in my fists. I didn’t want to give him a reason to taunt or otherwise abuse me.

“You blink an awful lot when you’re nervous,” he remarked. Resting his left arm on the top of the cushions, he cocked his head to the side and smirked at me. His hand was just a few inches from my right shoulder; he could have easily reached forward and grabbed me. Or strangled me. I would have scooted back if I’d had room—and if I hadn’t been paralyzed with anxiety.

“I—”

“It almost looks like you’re fluttering your eyelashes; like you’re trying to seduce me.”

“Oh my god, no! No. I don’t—I don’t act like that. I’m not—I mean, I don’t....” Words died on my tongue and I could no longer look at the Dark Lord. Not wanting to be _quite_ so close to him after hearing such a remark, I made to shift away from him a bit, but he tightly gripped my knee. I winced.

“You stay right where you are!” he snapped. “You’ll not turn away from me.”

I quickly bowed my head. “I’m sorry, my Lord.”

Staring at my lap, I tried to ignore the hand rubbing my outer thigh. Was I supposed to respond? Did he wish me to just sit there like a silent doll? What did he even want with me in the first place?

“Why am I here?” The words escaped my lips before I’d consciously decided to speak.

“You’re here for many reasons,” he replied flatly, keeping his hand on my leg. “Firstly, I will be training you in the Dark Arts—starting tomorrow. You’ve quite impressed me with your extensive research in preparation for presenting yourself to me, and it’s now time to take that to the next level. I will teach you six days a week, for five hours each day, after which you will practice on your own and then have some leisure time. How you spend that time is of no concern to me, as long as you don’t attempt to run away. You would never succeed at such a task.”

“But—I mean, I’m not protesting learning from you; it’s just that I go back to school in a few days, and—”

“You’re not going back to Hogwarts.”

“What?”

“You think I can’t teach you the seventh-year curriculum?”

“Oh! No, that’s not what I meant. I’m sure you can teach pretty much anything; I was just thinking about my future. I can’t get a job without completing my Hogwarts education, and then I wouldn’t be able to move out of my parents’ house, and I—”

“You’re not going back. You can’t. Not to school, and not to America. Once your relatives emerge from their stupor, which will happen in a few hours, they’ll believe that you have simply disappeared without a trace. They won’t recall my entry, or our little chat before I brought you home with me, and they’ll waste their energy on a fruitless search party before eventually giving up. I only spared their lives because they’re Purebloods, and they’re the type to keep quiet during political turmoil to avoid calling attention to themselves. Once they accept that you’re gone, they’ll return to America with their heads bowed—devastated, but resigned to their fate.”

He may as well have hit me in the face with a Bludger.

“You live with me now,” he continued, speaking as calmly as if we were discussing the latest fashion trends in Witch Weekly. “And your job, as it were, will consist of our training sessions, in magic Light and Dark. Assuming you behave to my satisfaction, I will initiate you as a Death Eater on your seventeenth birthday. I’ve no doubt that I can train you to be the most powerful Dark witch in the world. You will serve me well in many ways, just like you’ve always wanted. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Another Bludger to the face.

“Is this a problem?” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closer while sliding his hand further up my thigh to my waist. The gesture felt more threatening than soothing, but I was too afraid to ask him to stop touching me. Or to move his face out of my four-inch radius. Or to tell me how the fuck he had learned about my Dark magic research.

“I—no, my Lord, I’m sorry; I’m not trying to appear ungrateful or anything. I’m just...I’m overwhelmed.”

“Of course you are. That’s why we are beginning your lessons tomorrow instead of today. You’ll spend the rest of the day letting everything sink in, and then you’ll be ready for training tomorrow after a good night’s sleep.”

I stared at a spot on the floor while questions whipped through my mind.

Something was off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it—had I known three years ago that the Dark Lord would one day take this much interest in me, I would have squealed with joy; but there was a missing piece of this puzzle that eluded me. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find it or not.

“Do you, well...I didn’t have time to pack anything when you...came to get me.” _Don’t say ‘kidnapping.’ That’ll piss him off._ “Most of my clothes and my—”

“No matter. I will Summon everything here shortly. In fact, since you’re so dumbfounded that the cat’s got your tongue, I’ll go take care of it now. Wait right here and try to calm yourself. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.”

He was out of sight a moment later.


	12. Alternate Beginning 3 | Chapter 2

I took a deep breath, hugged my knees to my chest, and looked around. Without the pressure of the Dark Lord’s presence, the library really was quite homey. I could see myself spending many quiet hours here, curled up with an endless supply of books.

All of my favorite books were an ocean away. I sighed as I thought about all my old journals, sketchbooks, and paintings that I would never see again. How many of my belongings would actually end up here in the Dark Lord’s home? I’d likely have all my clothes and makeup, as he was Summoning everything from my grandmother’s house, but I didn’t feel comfortable voicing my disappointment about abandoning my belongings in America. Given my new living arrangements, and the rigidity of my new housemate, I supposed I’d have to just suck it up and rebuild my collection. It could’ve been worse.

But would he allow me that freedom? Would he gift me new art supplies and writing materials, or would he limit my activities outside of his lessons? I frowned at the thought of having my creative flow restricted—a concept I hadn’t considered when I’d thought about joining the Dark Lord...but I’d also never considered living with him. Though the prospect was exciting in some way, it also knotted my stomach. I had no idea what to expect.

Suddenly feeling antsy, I stood up and began walking around. I needed something to do. As tempting as it was to wander aimlessly around this enormous library, I didn’t want to go too far and then anger the Dark Lord if he couldn’t find me easily. I decided to just pace around the area and admire this gigantic collection of books. Was I allowed to take one off the shelf to read for a few minutes? Probably not. Chewing on my lip, I walked back to the couch to await the Dark Lord’s return.

“The task is complete.”

I jerked my head up and saw him standing a few feet away. “Thank you, my Lord. Where is everything?”

“Some of your belongings are in the room I’ve set up for you. Everything else is in my bedroom.”

“Your— _your_ bedroom?”

“Yes. You’re not getting everything back all at once; I’ll need to assess you over the next few months. The more you satisfy me and prove your loyalty, the more possessions you’ll get back. Some items from your parents’ house might have to wait until—”

“My _parents’_ house?!” I bolted to my feet.

“Yes, of course. You thought I hadn’t yet developed Summoning charms to for overseas objects? Tell me: in what universe does Summoning something in the same general area take fifteen whole minutes?”

My voice softened, almost to a whisper. “You—you Summoned _everything?”_

“Oh, come now. You didn’t think I was _that_ cruel, now did you?” he teased. “Making you leave everything behind and start over with nothing? Oh, no. Granted—if you misbehave, I might have to destroy a few paintings or sketchbooks, but I don’t see you pushing me that far. You’re a smart girl.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly; reality was finally sinking in. I was officially living with Lord Voldemort, and everything I owned was in his home. Was anyone else living here—a few high-ranking Death Eaters, perhaps? Would I enjoy their company?

The library was so huge, I could only imagine how big the rest of the house was. If other people were inside these walls, I wouldn’t know unless they screamed.

“Um...I have a question.”

“Only one? I thought you’d have many.” He smirked. “What is your _one_ question, dear?”

“How long will I be living with you?”

“Anxious to get away, are we?” he retorted.

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed, holding up my hands. “That’s not what I meant; I’m just trying to...get a grasp on all of this.”

He stared me down for a long moment before answering. “You’ll always live with me.”

And then a funny thing happened: he appeared a tad surprised. It was as if his own words had taken him aback. He looked away for a moment, pressing his lips together, before returning his gaze to me.

Had he meant to say that? Had he been planning to give me a different answer, but those words had slipped out unchecked?

I blinked. “...Forever?”

“Yes.” He sounded surer of himself now. “I can’t have you roaming around when you’ll soon be listed as missing, now can I?”

“I—I suppose not.”

“Exactly. You’re here for your own protection as well as your responsibilities to me.”

“Does anyone else live here?”

“No.”

“O...kay.”

“...unless you want to count my house elves, but they know to steer clear unless I call them. You’ll likely never see them unless you call for them yourself.”

I chewed on my lip again.

He tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes. “You have reservations about being alone with me, yes?”

“I—not really; it’s just that I never expected to _live_ with you.” My heart was speeding up again, and I tried desperately to keep my voice even.

“You’re scared.”

“No, no! I’m just a little bit nervous and I need some time to adjust, like you said. I’ll be fine after—”

He gripped my chin tightly and jerked my head up with a snarl. “You’re lying to me.”

“I—”

“You must not do this,” he warned. His eyes flashed with rage. “You must not lie to Lord Voldemort.”

“I didn’t—”

“Have you forgotten that I am the most powerful Legilimens in the world? Are you truly arrogant enough to believe you can withhold information from me and remain unscathed? Do I have to remind you of your place? Perhaps a few rounds of the Cruciatus curse—”

“No, my Lord,” I whispered, attempting to bow my head while he was still holding my chin. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I wasn’t trying to offend you; I was just trying to center myself and, well, not be scared.”

“But denial won’t reduce your fear; only enhance it. And _scared_ is an understatement: you are terrified down to your bones. My presence overwhelms you—as it should.” He sneered and lowered his arm. “You’ll not forget who I am, surely. You’ll not delude yourself into thinking you can act however you want without repercussions.”

“No, my Lord. I’m...I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“Good. I’m going to tell you something else I’ve noticed: you don’t want to be scrutinized anymore, like you were all through your childhood, and you’re now on the verge of panicking because you realize that I won’t keep my distance. You know that I will observe you closely, in your body language as well as your thoughts.

“And, adding to your hatred of special attention, you’re also afraid and that I will humiliate you with your darkest secrets. Bear in mind that this will only happen if you defy me—or if I see fit to toughen you up. You are quite strong, as I’m sure you know; but your confidence is a bit rough around the edges, given all the abuse you’ve weathered over the years. I will see to it that we fix this problem. No Death Eater of mine shall waver in their resolve.”

The room suddenly seemed to have cooled about fifteen degrees.

“Your fear will dissipate with time. The more you grow accustomed to my presence, the more you will accept your position. Also, remember that I am nothing like your relatives: I pay you utmost attention because I find you intriguing and full of potential, not incompetent. I’m not trying to change your personality; I want you to stay exactly as you are. My motives are the opposite of your family’s. Accept this without resistance. Trust me, and obey me, and you will flourish. I promise you that.”

“Um...okay.”

“Have you any other questions at this time?”

“No.”

“All right then. Let’s go have dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That’s because you’re nervous; but you still need sustenance. I’ll not have you skipping meals like you’re accustomed to doing when you’re stressed. I need you healthy and alert. You’re of no use to me otherwise. Do you truly want me to see you as useless? You’ll be entering dangerous territory.”

I stopped moving and gaped at him. “How do you know that I—”

“Alex, I know everything about you. You have no secrets anymore. And don’t even _attempt_ to hide anything from me—one, because it’ll never work; and two, because I will punish you for rebelling against me. Now come on.”

Dinner was quiet. Neither of us spoke much—I was too spooked by his threat, and he was too busy roving through my mind. I could barely taste the food. With my nerves frayed to shreds, I didn’t even have the energy to _think_ about blocking the Dark Lord from exploring my thoughts. I resigned myself to sitting obediently and eating my dinner in silence. He didn’t object.

He left me alone for a few hours after dinner, during which time I curled up on a chair in the library with a book—I was, apparently, allowed to read any book I wanted, provided that I put it back where it belonged. I didn’t read a whole lot, as my mind was wandering too much to absorb the text, but it was still nice to relax by myself for a bit.

A shoulder squeeze took my attention away from the story at around 10pm. I looked up and saw the Dark Lord standing before me, hand extended.

“Bed time,” he said. “I’ll show you to your room.” Noting the page I’d been reading, I tucked the book under my arm as the Dark Lord pulled me to my feet and led me upstairs.

Since he was walking much more slowly than this afternoon, I could actually look around and admire the beauty of his house. The atmosphere was almost spooky, with low light and mostly black stone walls, and the architecture reminded me of a Gothic antique furniture shop. Not a terrible place to live.

My room was down a long corridor to the right of the staircase, past several small rooms filled with various magical objects. There were no photographs on the walls; only a handful of paintings depicting angry snakes and other such topics. I smiled wanly in spite of my nerves—clearly, the Dark Lord and I had more in common than a thirst for knowledge. I found myself suddenly excited to find out how else we could relate. It wasn’t often that I truly enjoyed someone’s company.

“Here you are,” he told me, releasing my arm and opening the door. “Everything you’ll need for the night is in this room. I expect you to be dressed and ready for breakfast at eight o’clock, when I will come to collect you.”

“Okay. Good night, my Lord.”

“Good night, Alex. Sleep well. I’ll need you refreshed and energized tomorrow.”

He lingered in the doorway for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he abruptly closed the door and stalked off down the hall. I stayed in place until the sound of his footfalls faded.

With a heavy sigh, I sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to gather my thoughts. This had probably been the most dramatic day of my life, full of surprises and upheavals that I had still yet to absorb fully.

I had been whisked away from my family, whom I would likely never see again. I had been abducted and taken to a new home where I was free to roam—as long as I didn’t try to leave or stand up to my new housemate, who just so happened to be the most powerful Dark wizard in the world. All my plans for the future seemed to have been upended as well, though that wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Assuming I adjusted well to living with the Dark Lord, it might not be such a big deal that I was stripped of the opportunity to stand on my own.

I’d eagerly awaited getting my first job, my first paycheck, my first flat. I’d dreamed of that thrill; that first taste of independence, achieved all by myself with no help from my parents, so they wouldn’t be able to call me incapable anymore. _I_ knew I was highly capable, but I’d yet to have an opportunity to act on that gut feeling outside of school. I wanted the satisfaction.

But then again, maybe _this_ was such an opportunity. The Dark Lord never recruited weaklings. He tested his soldiers’ limits and taught them Dark magic, reveling in the act of teaching as much as the thrill of being worshipped. And not only would he be teaching me, but he had seen enough potential in me to bring me home to live with him. That gesture spoke volumes.

I smiled as I realized that perhaps all my hard work _was_ paying off. I wondered if this was how the Dark Lord rewarded his favorite recruits—housing them while giving them private lessons? How many people had lived with this man under similar circumstances? Was this a new tradition that he was beginning with aspiring Death Eaters, and I was simply the first to see it happen? I made a mental note to ask him in the morning.

How quickly would I adjust? How soon would this feel normal? I hadn’t the faintest idea. All I knew right then was that I was too amped up to fall asleep just yet.

I rummaged around in my trunk, as undisturbed as it had been at my grandmother’s house, and found all of my night things. After getting ready for bed, I grabbed the book I’d brought upstairs and began to read by wandlight. So engrossed I was in the story that I jumped when a folded piece of parchment zipped underneath the door, flew straight up in the air, and landed on top of my book. I unfolded it and gasped at the elegant script.

_Stop reading and go to sleep._

I bit my lip and looked around. How did the Dark Lord know I was still awake? Was he standing outside the door, using Legilimency? Was he...on the opposite side of the fucking house, using Legilimency?!

Thankfully, he wasn’t in my bedroom, as I saw when I hastily pointed my wand at every wall. I’d nearly had a heart attack at the thought of him Apparating in here and seeing me barely dressed. As wicked as he was, I couldn’t see him engaging in _that_ type of behavior—at least, I hoped he wouldn’t. I shook my head to banish the disturbing image as I placed the book on my nightstand, using the Dark Lord’s note as a bookmark, and got under the covers. I had to take a few more deep breaths before I finally closed my eyes and drifted off.


	13. Alternate Beginning 3 | Chapter 3

A bright light roused me at seven o’clock. I fumbled around for my wand, confused about why my nightstand was in a different place, until the previous day flooded back into my mind.

 _“Nox,”_ I mumbled, still not fully lucid. Was I really in the Dark Lord’s house? Was I really not returning to school? Had I dreamed up all the craziness from yesterday? I didn’t believe my own memories until I saw my Hogwarts trunk on the floor, and the small bathroom a few feet away that definitely wasn’t mine. Well— _now_ it was, but it hadn’t been until last night.

I shook my head a few times to clear my thoughts. The Dark Lord would be coming for me in an hour, and I couldn’t afford to sit around and ruminate. My lessons with him were a serious matter.

The excitement kicked in as I dressed and took stock of my new bedroom. It was a good size, as was the closet, and it appealed to my aesthetic more than my room in America. There was no décor here; just more dark stone walls that matched the rest of the house. I wondered if I would one day hang my paintings on the walls. Surely, the Dark Lord wouldn’t object to that. Maybe he’d even request a few pieces for his own bedroom. Where all of my art supplies were currently stored.

I wondered how long it would be before he returned the rest of my things. I had the essentials right here—clothes, toiletries, quills, and my journal—but that was it. Though I knew I’d be busy with my new lessons, and therefore limited in my leisure time, I still hoped I wouldn’t have to wait too long to have everything back in my possession.

As I didn’t need too much time to get ready in the morning, I spent less time applying my makeup and more time hanging clothes in the closet. I was fully unpacked at 7:45, when I quietly sat on the edge of my bed to await the Dark Lord. It was hard not to fidget.

_Knock knock._

“I’m coming—”

The door opened before I finished speaking. Voldemort didn’t say a word; he merely smirked. I followed him downstairs to the dining room and cautiously sat opposite him at the table.

“You have a few questions, don’t you.” He was giving me that probing stare again, with one side of his mouth turned upward a hair.

I shifted in my seat and stared at my eggs and toast. I wasn’t ready to eat yet.

“Well, go on. What do you wish to ask me?”

“Have you ever...lived with anyone before?”

“Of course. I slept in the Slytherin boys’ dormitory at Hogwarts.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I giggled nervously. “I meant _here.”_

“No. Not here. I lived with the Malfoy family after my second rise, before I decided to construct my own home. You are living inside the result.”

“You—you _built_ this house?”

“I did. I had to read an awful lot about architecture first—I couldn’t just wave my wand and have stones and bricks come together from thin air—but after several months of study and experimentation, I succeeded. I’m quite proud of it.”

“Wow. That’s—that’s impressive.”

“Indeed. The house itself is not only structurally sound, but the property is also surrounded with several protective enchantments. This is why you are able to perform magic here without the Ministry finding you. The Trace does not work here.”

I stared.

After chuckling at my shock, he explained all the charms he had created and manipulated in order to render his estate impenetrable and undetectable. It was certainly a good thing that I admired him, or I’d have felt less awe and more hopeless terror. I ate in silence, processing everything I had just heard and wondering what I would be learning after breakfast.

* * *

In some ways, Voldemort’s lessons reminded me of my Hogwarts education. We often used the textbooks I’d bought in Diagon Alley in August, and he acted like a regular teacher most of the time. The contrast in his behavior was so stark, it felt like I was living with two different people: the brilliant professor who’d missed his calling, and the evil overlord who was training me to join his collection of minions. I enjoyed both personas. I even began to relax a bit, as I grew more accustomed to his presence.

I also became more adept at navigating his moods, which had both scared and confused me initially. He could go from animated one minute to seething the next, depending on the topic of conversation. When I asked him questions during our training sessions, he was always patient; but when I asked him anything personal, he either responded with a short, clipped reply or scolded me like a child trying to cheat off of someone else’s exam. It was as if I should have known better than to try and get to know the person I was living with—perish the thought!

If he had been anyone else, I would have moved out after being treated in such a manner, but I lacked that luxury. And I was certainly no stranger to hypervigilance, so I had no difficulty examining his conduct as closely as he was examining mine. Though a befuddling situation, I reminded myself that this was probably the best-case scenario. I was safe overall, I was receiving the Dark Arts training I’d dreamed of for years, and my instructor mostly treated me well.

As uptight as he was, he did loosen up a bit over the next few months. He sometimes spoke in a slightly less formal tone, as if I were more of a peer than an underling. He’d occasionally answer a personal question I had asked weeks earlier, subtly inserting the information into the flow of conversation without acknowledging my previous inquiry, to make it sound like he had chosen to reveal the information without my prompting. I knew better than to voice these observations—I was simply grateful that he was gradually becoming a bit more approachable, and thereby making me less nervous.

Being a fiercely private person myself, I could hardly blame him for keeping close to the vest; but I found that as he began opening up a bit more, so did I. Granted, he already knew virtually everything about me, but I hadn’t yet grown comfortable speaking about certain topics out loud. There was a difference between feeling the Dark Lord tearing through my thoughts, and having to talk about events that had ruined my childhood.

He once remarked that my parents had thrown the word _love_ around constantly, all the while treating me like a living nightmare sent to punish and inconvenience them. _What had they really known of love?_ he asked me. And had I really _wanted_ their love, or had I been more concerned with feeling protected? Which of those concepts did I believe more valuable and beneficial to my success?

That was when I told him the story of Matthew.

The Dark Lord had viewed many of my memories through Legilimency, but he was still interested in hearing me tell the story of the brooding boy who had captured my heart for a year and half, nearly crushing it in the process. He found my reaction to the boy quite fascinating, given that my coldly logical mind matched his own—my obsessive love for Matthew had been so out of character. When I told him that I’d associated Matthew more with acceptance and validation than romance, he reiterated his previous statement: love was a frivolous emotion that could unravel even the strongest of people, while safety and reverence from others were more conducive to survival.

Though he couldn’t empathize, he praised the grueling work I had done on myself to move past the heartbreak. He commended my maturity in acknowledging that I had allowed myself to fall apart, because I had subsequently built myself back up and become stronger—to the point that I’d fantasized about killing the boy I’d once loved more than life. Voldemort told me I had grown more powerful by turning lovesickness into bloodlust, which had helped me return to myself and remember my priorities. He reminded me that falling in love was akin to taking a drug—a drug whose addictive nature would wither the user away. I found no reason to argue.

And then he told me I would do well to bury the pesky emotion in the future.

The man was incapable of love. I had long suspected this, but it became clearer the more time I spent with him. Not that such a concept impacted my interactions with him; it was simply an observation. I didn’t think much of it after that one discussion had confirmed my hunch.

I hadn’t even given thought to the concept of love since being taken from my family. I had felt a twinge of sadness here and there—mostly for the loss of the healthy relationships I’d never had with them—but I hadn’t actually felt like a prisoner since my first day in the Dark Lord’s mansion. Instead of loneliness and helplessness over my new living arrangements, I felt rejuvenated. Excited. Hopeful. I could speak my mind without much of a filter, I could express and indulge my passion for the Dark Arts, and I could read any book I wanted without having to sneak around. I could behave authentically without fear of scaring my audience. Granted, I still had to defer to Voldemort’s judgment and follow his orders, but this dynamic wasn’t terribly difficult. I was quickly growing accustomed to navigating the power he wielded, often without even thinking about it.

In short: I felt safe. Truly safe. This new normal far surpassed any version of “love” I had received as a child. Perhaps the Dark Lord was right.

* * *

One afternoon at the end of November, my daily training took quite an unusual turn. I’d struggled to grasp a particular concept, and I’d asked Voldemort many questions as I honed my skill. He was surprisingly patient, though I could tell he was mildly annoyed with my slow progress. After a few hours, when I had finally mastered the lesson, he dramatically turned the tables.

“Now, after all of your inquiries, it’s time for _me_ to ask _you_ a question,” he stated matter-of-factly.

He was suddenly standing far too close for my liking. I inched backward, hoping to increase the distance between us, but he followed. I slid to the side, and he matched my every step. We repeated this strange dance until I was backed up against a bookshelf.

“W-what is it?” I stammered, feeling my stomach clench in response to the hungry gleam in his eyes.

He rested his hands on the shelf just above my shoulders and leered down at me. “What would you do if I kissed you?”

“W- _what?”_

“If I kissed those luscious, pouty lips of yours, what would you do? Would you enjoy it? Would you object? Would it scare you?” He stepped in closer and cupped my face in his hands.

My breath came in short bursts. “I—I’ve never thought about you that way,” I whispered, inclining my head away as his thumb grazed my cheek. “I don’t know what to—what...just... _why?_ Why would you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You are achingly beautiful and any man would be lucky to possess you. Fortunately, you live only with me, so there’s no room for pesky admirers. I’ve got you all to myself.”

And then his lips were on my neck. His left hand closed around my throat—not tightly enough to completely choke me, but enough to restrict my air flow as he trailed hard kisses down my neck and across my cheeks. His right hand stroked my hair.

“Your skin is unbelievably soft,” he murmured. “I’ve always wanted to find out exactly _how_ soft, and it’s even better than I imagined.”

I shivered and looked over his shoulder as he massaged my scalp, too uncomfortable to look directly at him.

“Will you really resist me, after all I’ve done for you?” he challenged, his lips tickling my ear as he spoke.

My shallow breathing spiked as his lips glided across my cheek, venturing closer and closer to my mouth, and a dull throbbing swelled in between my legs. Why the hell was my body responding? I wasn’t attracted to him; I viewed him strictly as a mentor—and a maniacal one at that. Why would a part of me _want_ him to get physical? This was insane!

“You _are_ attracted to me,” he drawled against my skin, “as I am to you. I may scoff at the frivolity of romance, but I know a gorgeous girl when I see one. And I will no longer wait to avail myself of your charms. You’re ready now.”

“No! I—”

“You’ve been attracted to me since I accused you of trying to seduce me with your fluttering eyelashes. You blushed at the mere _thought_ of my hands roving all over your sweet little body. I saw the delightful images in your mind. Don’t deny it.”

I shook my head violently. “I didn’t want that, I swear! I was _uncomfortable_ when you said that; not...excited! How—”

His mouth was on mine a second later, pressing forcefully while his hands held my face so I couldn’t move away.

I tried to keep my lips closed; but he sharply dug his fingers into my cheeks. I gasped involuntarily.

His tongue was practically down my throat, his breathing ragged. And despite my brain screaming in protest, I slowly slipped my arms around his waist and relaxed my mouth. Struggling would accomplish nothing, so I figured it would be best to indulge him.

I ended up indulging him for several minutes. He kissed my lips, my cheeks, my forehead, my throat...he couldn’t seem to stop. My whole body pulsed. When he sank his teeth into my neck, I sagged against him and moaned. My legs quivered and I gripped his back tightly so as to remain upright. With him crushing his body against mine, I could feel his cock twitch in response to my cries.

“That’s it,” he whispered in between rough bites. “That’s my girl.”

When he finally pulled away, I leaned back against the bookshelves and closed my eyes. I could feel Voldemort’s gaze on me, knowing he was probing my thoughts again, but I felt too stunned to protest. My only goal right then was to catch my breath and stop trembling.

This was not the first kiss I had imagined receiving.

I opened my eyes a minute later and found the Dark Lord still staring, unblinking, while he twirled a lock of my hair around his fingers. He looked like he was waiting for me to speak.

“What do you _really_ want with me?” I asked quietly.

Releasing my hair, he looked away for a moment before responding. “To be frank, I’m not entirely sure. I’ll let you know when I’ve figured it out.”

“I...do you—”

“In the meantime, keep practicing your spellwork and doing whatever else I tell you. You perform beautifully.”

And without another word, he turned around and walked away.

I slid down to the floor and rested my forehead on shaky knees. My heart pounded, my core ached, and my head swam. No matter how much work I had put into researching the Dark Lord and rehearsing endless conversations with him, nothing had prepared me for what had just transpired. I had no idea where to go from here.

His was the only human contact I’d had since the end of August. Normally an antisocial creature, I had barely noticed the lack of other people in his mansion, but I suddenly found myself desperate for someone else to talk to. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord was as possessive as he was protective, and he would never let me set foot outside his property—at least, not until it was time for my Death Eater initiation. But even then, my comrades wouldn’t necessarily become my friends. I had no idea how we would react to each other or how often I’d see them.

Adding to my confusion was the realization that this was the first time I’d ever wanted to ask someone for advice. I’d never done so growing up, having been raised on toxic lessons that impeded my growth, and so I had turned inward at a very early age. Everything valuable that I’d learned, I’d learned by myself after years of grueling failures. I’d always been accustomed to figuring things out for myself, with no interest in seeking guidance from others—even if I had to fall flat on my face before finding a solution. Now, for the first time in my life, I felt utterly lost.

It suddenly hit me how isolated I really was—and how much that scared me. Since when did I hate being alone? Since when did I want to ask for help? Was I even capable of figuring this out for myself?

All I could do was wait and see.


	14. Alternate Beginning 3 | Chapter 4

For the next few weeks, Voldemort acted like nothing had happened in the library. Our training sessions continued on as usual, and I began relaxing a bit more as it seemed that things had returned to normal. And with everything I was learning, I couldn’t be _that_ miserable.

I was pondering my future one night before getting into bed—the year was almost over, my birthday was a month away, and that meant my Death Eater initiation was approaching. I imagined the beautiful skull-and-snake tattoo that my left arm would soon bear. Tracing the creamy white skin of my forearm, I drew an outline of what I imagined the tattoo would look like. The image excited me as I took off my makeup and brushed my hair. I smiled at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

I’d just finished my nightly routine and made to unfasten my robe when a loud knock startled me.

I stared at the bedroom door, wondering if I was about to be punished. What had I done? The Dark Lord had seemed so pleased with my progress that day, and hadn’t scolded me once, but that knock had sounded angry. No— _enraged_. My heart was in my throat as I cautiously crossed the room and opened the door.

“Yes, my Lord?” I asked, trying not to look as scared as I felt.

“Come with me,” he replied curtly, grabbing my wrist and dragging me down the hall—rather like the day he’d first brought me here—except this time, I knew we weren’t venturing down to the library. I remained silent, too apprehensive to ask where we were going. Scenes of torture and verbal abuse flashed through my mind as I tried to imagine what I had done wrong, and how I could fix it.

We ended up in a narrow hallway leading to a black door. Covering the top half was a sculpture of a gigantic silver snake, standing out like a beacon of light against the darkness of the hall. After turning the knob, the Dark Lord pulled me inside, shut the door, and slammed me against the wall. I only distantly registered the large bed off to my left.

“Do you really think I only brought you here to learn the Dark Arts?” he spat, as if I were a naïve child who’d been looking at him with rose-colored glasses for the past four months. _Had_ I been?

“I—well, truly, I wasn’t sure why I was here. That’s why I asked what you really wanted after you...” I took a deep breath. “...after you kissed me.”

He stepped in closer, grabbed my wrists, and pinned them to the wall behind my head. “ _This_ is what I want,” he growled, before crushing his mouth over mine.

Though my hands were cold from being pressed against the stone wall, my body was heating up and I hardly noticed the icy sensation on the backs of my arms. Was I shivering from the cold, or the soft lips traveling down my neck?

Strong hands reached under my robe to grasp my waist and massage my breasts. My arms dropped to my sides as an erotic sigh escaped my throat. Merlin, maybe I really _was_ attracted to this man after all—though I supposed it was only natural, after having lived together for months and realizing that we had a lot in common. We could hold a normal conversation as easily as an academic discussion during my training.

“I wasn’t sure if I could keep my hands off of you before,” the Dark Lord murmured, his face still buried in my neck as he unfastened my robe and pulled it off my shoulders. “But you’re just too tempting for your own good. I might have to punish you for it.”

“F-for what?? I didn’t do anything!”

“For distracting me from my goal! I sought you as a new recruit, not an alluring seductress testing my self-control every damn day. I deserve a reward for my patience and restraint.”

“I _promise_ I wasn’t trying to seduce you! That was the farthest thing from my mind. I’d never—”

“Shhhh.” He placed a finger on my lips. “Don’t speak now. No more protesting. Just do what I tell you, and don’t fight me.”

He ripped my shirt open without another word. Though his face appeared relatively calm, the fire in his eyes made me squirm as he stared at my breasts. My wrists were then pinned to the wall again, held in a vise-grip as the Dark Lord placed hard kisses all over my neck and chest, from my hair line down to my bra line. I shivered.

“Let’s get this out of the way,” he mumbled while unhooking my bra. After tossing it to the floor, he grabbed my breasts and began squeezing hard. He then ducked his head and took a nipple in his mouth. He alternated between them, kissing and sucking and licking while his hands massaged my shoulders, until a sharp pang jolting in between my legs nearly made my knees buckle. I squeezed my thighs together and moaned in frustration. The tension in my body was growing painful.

“Ahh, yes, now you have a glimpse of how I’ve felt around you since the summer,” he drawled, “but perhaps I shall torment you a little while longer. You’ve only been feeling like this for a few minutes; not months. You haven’t earned a reward _just_ yet.”

“What?! No...I know how it feels to be—”

“I disagree. An infatuation with a boy from school, too weak to handle you, cannot compare to this. He was nothing. I am everything. If you want my touch, and not in a way that will satisfy me alone, you’ll need to convince me that you deserve it. I’ll need more than fluttering eyelashes this time.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I will give you what you want when you properly beg for it.”

The back of my head hit the wall as I bit back a scream of frustration. “Please, my Lord, please....”

He laughed. “Oh no, sweet girl, I require more than mere words. I need you delirious; twitching and crying and screaming for relief. And even then, that still might not be enough for me. I might just leave you all alone tonight, tightly restrained so as to prevent you from assuaging the ache by yourself.”

“No, please! You were right; I need this...please, just—”

“Get on your knees.”

A sound between a sigh and a moan escaped my lips as I sank to the floor. I grabbed my robe and laid it under my knees for cushioning, but the Dark Lord snatched it away and threw it far out of my reach.

“No,” he snapped, grabbing my chin and forcing my head up before unbuckling his trousers. “You’re not to focus on yourself now; only me.”

I made to protest, but my mouth was suddenly full of hot, throbbing flesh. Long fingers fisted in my hair, moving my head back and forth. I reached up to touch the pulsing muscle, but the Dark Lord took my hands and held them above my head. At least the pressure on my scalp was gone now.

“Just your mouth, love,” he murmured, trying to keep his voice steady even as his breathing spiked. “Show me what you can do with those pouty lips. Let me see how loyal you really are. That’s a good girl.”

Were my pouty lips not otherwise occupied, I would have grinned at his praise. I flashed back to the countless late nights I’d spent over the past few years, wondering when I’d finally have some male attention. Now having that opportunity, I remembered all the motions I’d imagined performing on lust-crazed boys who I’d fancied luring to my bed for the ride of their lives. It appeared that my imagination had served me well, given the Dark Lord’s satisfied groans and shudders.

He released my hands to grab my hair as he moaned louder, allowing me to finally touch him. He hissed as my left hand closed around his testicles and my right hand began pumping the shaft in time with my lips. After a few minutes, he forced my head all the way down and emitted a guttural growl. Hot, salty fluid burst into my mouth and shot down my throat. I swallowed as quickly as possible to avoid choking.

“My little treasure has many talents,” he mumbled as he pulled back. “This is a step in the right direction.”

“A...a step?” My brow furrowed as I looked up at him.

“Oh, yes. That was just the beginning.” He wiped a drop of white liquid off my lips and pressed the pad of his thumb into my mouth. His face bore a hint of a smile, which quickly vanished after I’d licked his finger. “Get up.”

Wincing at the pain in my knees, I grabbed the wall and slowly rose to my feet. The Dark Lord effortlessly threw me over his shoulder and slammed me onto his bed, forcefully enough that I bounced. My gasp cut off as a cold hand slapped over my mouth, and another grabbed my hair to pull my head back. Hard kisses blanketed my face and neck as the Dark Lord pressed his body against mine. I threw my arms around his back and clutched his robes.

My core throbbed violently. And though it was hard to breathe with my mouth clamped shut and my nose allowed very little air, my body was still warming and aching for release. Suppressed moans became loud cries as the Dark Lord uncovered my mouth and began kissing his way down my torso. I stroked his arms, not sure of what else to do while he rubbed my breasts. He pulled off my skirt and underwear together, and then dragged his lips up my inner thighs while spreading them wide.

“Please,” I whimpered, bunching the blanket in my fists. It took concerted effort not to cry.

He stared me down for a moment, expressionless, before burying his face in between my legs and driving his tongue deep. I grabbed his hair and cried out as my back arched. His tongue probed for a while, stroking and lapping hungrily, while his hands gripped my thighs. He swallowed audibly several times, growling deep in his throat. My head lolled on the pillow and my eyelids fluttered.

“There you go with those long eyelashes again,” he hissed. “You don’t realize what you do to me, do you?”

“I—I think I can imag—”

“No. You can’t imagine. But you’ll understand soon enough. I will show you.”

Without another word, he spread my thighs wider and began licking my clitoris. I squealed in surprise, not expecting such intense shockwaves, but not exactly hating them either. My hips rocked against the Dark Lord’s face as pressure built deep inside. Seconds before release, he abruptly pulled away. I screamed.

Ignoring my squirming and whimpering, he got up off the bed. He didn’t even look at me as he undressed, appearing as calm as if he were preparing to sleep alone. He only acknowledged me upon pointing his wand at my arms.

_“Incarcerous.”_

Ropes sprang from the bedposts and bound my wrists. Though he had mentioned restraints a few minutes earlier, I still couldn’t believe he was actually using them; I thought he’d only resort to that if I disobeyed him. I hadn’t done this, so why was he punishing me? My throat closed up as I struggled to no avail. I could only move my arms up and down about two inches.

“Please, my Lord, please!” I panted. “I can’t—”

He cut off my protest by leaning over and kissing me again. “ _Shhh._ I told you not to protest. You don’t want to anger me, do you? Especially while so vulnerable?”

I bit back a growl as he sneered at me while running his left hand down my torso. His right hand cupped the top of my head and rubbed softly.

“Trust me,” he whispered in my ear.

“I—”

“Do you trust me, Alex? I need you to say it.”

“I— _ohh!”_

He shoved two cold fingers inside me and began pumping. My forehead pressed back against his hand, which was still stroking my hair. And just like the first time, he sharply withdrew seconds before the imminent climax. My whole body shook in frustration.

“You see now?” he jeered. “You see how desperate you are for relief? What you’re experiencing now is exactly how I’ve felt around you every day from the beginning. But unlike you, I will not be made to suffer anymore, and I consider it the highest honor to finally repay the favor. Now spread your legs. I didn’t tell you to close them.”

I obeyed, clenching my fists and squeezing my eyes shut. When I opened them again, my ankles were bound to the bottom two bed posts. I could move my legs enough to bend my knees, but I was still angry about being restrained again.

“No!”

A hard _SMACK_ hit between my legs. I hissed.

“No protesting, remember? Next time you fight me, even if only with words, I will draw blood. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord, I’m sorry....”

“As you should be.”

He climbed on top of me and nibbled on my neck as he rubbed my waist. I wasn’t sure if I was inclining my head away to get away from him, or to allow him more room. My thoughts were too jumbled.

“Do you trust me?” he repeated, cupping my cheek and forcing me to look at him. “I require this. You’ll not have a single release if you deny me—tonight, or ever. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I—yes.”

“I am unconvinced.”

“W-why?”

“Your hesitation, firstly; in addition to the sudden tension in your body. Tell me: after all I’ve done for you these past few months, why have you not yet placed your complete faith in me? Who else would free you from a toxic home life and devote their free time to teaching you? Why do you hesitate?”

“I know you,” I said simply.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know who you are. I know how you operate. I know that you don’t respect people for no reason; they have to be useful to you.”

“You could also look in the mirror and say that. Let’s not be hypocritical, shall we?”

I fell silent.

“You’ve no need to worry, love. You will continue to obey me?”

“Yes—”

“And you won’t _ever_ betray me?”

“No!”

“Then I don’t see the problem. I have supported and encouraged you more than everyone in your family combined. None of them, or your former classmates, really knew you. You were smart to stay guarded around them, but there is no sense in that now. We’re too alike for you to waste your energy being paranoid. You provide value to me, and I provide value to you. We’ve long since established that. Now, stop working yourself into a state, and tell me you trust me.”

“I—how am I working myself into a state?!”

“Like this.” With his eyes still locked on mine, he shoved his fingers back inside me. I squealed.

He kept it up for several minutes and then stopped abruptly. His fingers curled, lightly stroking the sweet spot deep inside, but not enough to put me over the edge.

“Trust me,” he hissed over my whines of protest. “You’d have had your release by now if you’d abandoned your suspicions. If you had no problem sneaking into the Hogwarts library to read Dark Arts books for years—an infraction that could have gotten you expelled—then you can expand your comfort zone just a little bit more now. _Trust me._ ”

“Trust you with what?” I gasped, trying hard to think clearly as my core tensed around his fingers.

“Everything. Your life, your safety, your pleasure. All these things that you value, you will receive from me, as long as you place your faith in my judgment. Will you do that for me?”

As suspicious as I was, I realized that the Dark Lord had a point: despite his selfish motives, he _had_ taken better care of me than anyone before. And since I had no plans to defy him, there was no sense in trying to keep my guard up just to prove my level-headedness—when he would tear through any defenses I tried to erect, no matter my reasons. His Legilimency skills really were unparalleled.

After a long, deep inhalation, I whispered, “Okay. I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

His fingers began moving again. Over and over, he worked me up until the pressure was about to burst, and then pulled away. My face was suddenly streaked with tears.

“Beautiful little thing you are,” he murmured into my neck, inhaling deeply. “Look at you crying and aching and burning for my touch. Just like you should have been from the beginning.”

“Wha—”

“I always knew you’d end up in my bed; pity I had to wait months for you to finally be ready. I’d had half a mind to take you on the couch in the library, right after bringing you home. Did you know?”

All I could do was gasp and whimper as his voice sent chills down my spine. Whether the shivers were from terror or arousal, I couldn’t tell.

“Are you really shocked? Did you not feel my hand creeping up your body as you sat before me? Did you not see my mouth inches from yours when we spoke? I know you couldn’t see how flushed you were, but I’m sure you felt your body temperature rising a few degrees. Rather like it is now.” 

_Something is off,_ I had told myself. The gleam in his eyes had looked out of place, considering that his discourse that day had been all about training me and preparing me for my Death Eater initiation. His borderline-sexual touches and scorching stares had not matched the conversation.

_It almost looks like you’re fluttering your eyelashes; like you’re trying to seduce me._

No; _he_ had been trying to seduce _me._ He had been projecting his desires onto me to test my reaction; to see if he could glean such responses from me through the power of suggestion.

_Some of your belongings are in the room I’ve set up for you. Everything else is in my bedroom._

Another subtle suggestion: my belongings in his bedroom. _Me_ in his bedroom. He had planned this from the get-go. (And none of my belongings were, in fact, in his bedroom, so that had been an outright lie. I wondered where they were, and if I would ever get them back. I hadn’t “earned” anything returned to me yet.)

And so the missing puzzle piece was finally in place. The Dark Lord didn’t just want me as a Death Eater; he wanted me as a toy for his bedroom. He wanted me all to himself, to use however he wanted, with no chance of anyone ever finding me. I really was a prisoner.

I bit back a sob—but then I wondered something: if I meant nothing to him, why had he gone to such lengths to acquire me, like I was a prize he’d wanted to claim before anyone else had a chance? Why had he told me that he wasn’t sure of his intentions after kissing me? Had that been another lie—another calculated power play meant to soften my opinion of him—or had he truly not understood his motivations consciously?

“You are more than a toy,” he insisted, stroking my face. “I’ll admit to having viewed you that way when I first learned of your existence, but you are now so much more than that. And deep down, you know this. You know how precious you are to me. You are smart enough to understand that you are not my equal, but you still deserve the utmost respect for your loyalty and tenacity in preparing yourself to serve me. I have never, _ever_ seen anyone act as you have done.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” I whispered shakily.

“Oh no, thank _you._ You are an absolute delight, having proved your allegiance in so many ways. I cannot help but be proud.” He kissed my face a few times. “So now, I will grant you a special privilege.”

My eyes flew open. “A _what?”_

“A special privilege. One that no other person will ever receive, no matter how hard they work on my behalf.”

“What’s that?”

“You may use my given name.”

“W- _what?”_

He smirked. “It’s not a trick, love. Say it.”

“Tom—”

He crushed his lips over mine, only pulling back to assault my neck. “You’re mine,” he growled.

My heavy sighs turned to loud moans as he slid down my body, trailing slow kisses over my breasts and down my stomach. I nearly climaxed within seconds of his mouth touching my sex, after being teased so much already, but my sadistic bedfellow wouldn’t allow it. He moved his lips to my inner thigh, mere inches away from the clenching, quivering muscles aching for his tongue.

“Tom, please!” I cried. “Please! _Please!!”_

“No. Not yet.”

“What?! Why?”

“I will know when you’re ready. Just relax and trust my process.”

I whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut. Though I’d promised to trust him, I was having a rough time of it in my current position. I couldn’t even arch my hips, as Tom was gripping me so tightly.

A sharp contrast to his fingers digging into my flesh, his mouth was only lightly brushing against my thighs. He occasionally stopped to trace his tongue over my soaked folds, but only for a second. I thought the throbbing pressure might split my whole body in half. And the keening sounds tearing from my throat didn’t even sound like me. I couldn’t keep this up much longer; my mind would surely crumble. Would I end up a broken soul in St. Mungo’s by the end of the night?

Without warning, Tom opened his mouth wide and began sucking my clitoris. I gasped, partly in relief and partly in shock—was he actually going to allow me release this time?

Sucking gave way to rapid licking, and my body was convulsing in rapture before my mind registered what was happening. My cries echoed off the walls and my hands balled into fists, unaware of the friction from the ropes.

He didn’t stop there. Instead of teasing me, he was now stimulating me with a frenetic energy, forcing me to climax over and over and over. The only breaks I received came in the form of Tom shoving his tongue inside me and sucking hard, gorging like a starved beast. And I had but seconds to regroup before he began working me up again. Dragged under this erotic current, I wondered if I might permanently lose the ability to speak. I could not form a single coherent thought by the time he finally lifted his head up and crawled on top of me; all I could do was lie there, panting.

And then a sharp pain ripped through my center. I groaned.

“Now you are truly mine,” Tom murmured, gripping my hair as he began thrusting deep. Pain gradually gave way to pleasure, and I screamed his name as my body quaked for the umpteenth time that night. I would have clung to him, digging my nails into his back while he shuddered through his own release, were my wrists not tightly bound.

He lay atop me for a moment when it was over, his cheek pressed against mine as he caught his breath, before kissing my neck and rolling onto his back. I raised my eyebrows. How long was he planning on keeping me tied down? Not only were we done, but a sharp rope burn was starting to set in. I was no longer enjoying this position.

“Um...” 

“Give me a minute.”

He lay still, breathing deeply with his eyes closed. I would’ve loved to have known what he was thinking. Was he satisfied? Aggravated? Reliving the past half hour? Planning another bedroom session?

He sat up a moment later, crossing his legs as he faced me. His eyes wandered up and down my body.

“What is it?”

“Shh.” He pressed two fingers to my lips. “Just let me look at you.”

His hand trailed down my neck and onto my breasts, lingering on my nipples. His face bore no expression as his fingers continued their quiet exploration, even as my breathing spiked again. His right hand caressed my inner thigh, while his left stroked my hair. Though the sensation was quite pleasant, part of me wanted him to stop; I could feel another wave of arousal swelling, and I had no energy to satisfy it.

“You are sinfully gorgeous,” he drawled after several minutes of silence. “Especially like this: bound, relaxed, and compliant. What a sight.”

“Th-thank you.” I smiled wanly, trying not to squirm under his stare. The glint in his eyes was both disturbing and arousing. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not.

But I quite liked it when he Vanished the ropes. I moaned as I stretched my arms, which had grown quite sore over the past twenty minutes. Even though I was relieved to be free of my bonds, I still couldn’t move too much.

Straddling my waist, Tom reached down and began rubbing my shoulders.

“Ow, stop—”

“No. Relax. The pain will dull soon. Let me soothe you.”

“Tom—”

“Trust me.” The words were a command; not a reassurance. I shut my mouth.

He massaged my shoulders for a few more minutes, and then held my wrists to slowly bring my arms down to my sides. As he climbed off of me and lay back down, I realized he was right; the stiffness in my muscles was starting to dissipate. The rope burn, on the other hand, was becoming a problem. Sharp pain prickled around my wrists and ankles, with no sign of abating.

“We’ll take care of that tomorrow,” he mumbled, running his thumb over the burn on my right wrist. “Sleep now.”

I chuckled to myself when he pulled me against his chest—so tightly, I almost couldn’t breathe, until he began to drift off and his grip loosened.

As I’d thought several times over the past four months, no amount of research or imagined conversations could have prepared me for this; but I wasn’t terribly scared anymore. I doubted I’d ever feel completely comfortable around Tom, but I could make peace with our arrangement. I certainly would have the time to adjust.

A small smile ghosted across my face as I settled back in his arms and fell asleep.


	15. Alternate Beginning 4 | Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a four-chapter piece depicting the way Tom and Alex’s relationship might have begun, had he waited for her to join the Death Eaters on her own terms before he revealed his attraction to her.

To say I was proud was an understatement. I had defied the odds by crawling my way out of the hellhole of my childhood with no assistance, after years of being told I was incompetent and immature. Growing up in an abusive household had taken its toll, but boarding school had offered me enough of a respite that I had gradually learned how to trust my own judgment and have faith in my potential.

I couldn’t believe that my Hogwarts graduation was already behind me—I was finally working, living on my own, and paying my own bills. Though I resided in a seedy flat a few miles outside of Diagon Alley, I was unconcerned about my safety. Years of Dark magic research, followed by my long-awaited Death Eater initiation in late August, had trained me to fend off most petty adversaries. My skills certainly needed work, but they were better than when I’d only been a student reading about Dark spells. With this sudden rush of good fortune, I had smiled more in the past four months than I had in four years.

My parents had thrown a fit upon receiving my letter in June, in which I’d told them that I had secured a job and a flat for move-in on July 1—they’d expected me to come home to America and bask in their condescending overprotectiveness masked as love and concern. They couldn’t believe that I’d landed a weekend job right after winter break, from which I’d begun aggressively saving money while searching for flats during my down time. I wasn’t sure what riled them up more: that I’d gotten a job without telling them, or that I’d proved them wrong by showing that I was more mature than they needed to believe. No incapable, childish wimp could have achieved that.

They had threatened to remain at Hogwarts after the graduation ceremony until I would agree to return home with them, but Professors Slughorn and McGonagall had stepped in on my behalf. They reminded my parents that legally, they had no power over me and could not stop me from setting out on my own without their blessing—and backing out of a job after I’d signed an employment contract would be a stain on my already-rocky reputation that I’d worked so hard to improve. After many tears, threats, and insults, my family agreed to leave the castle grounds and return to America without me. And so I could at least move into my flat and get settled with no fanfare. I was leaving fanfare and notoriety behind.

The apothecary wasn’t the most thrilling place to work, but I couldn’t complain; it was a job. It was a paycheck. It guaranteed my freedom from my parents’ clutches. The weekend job there had turned permanent after graduation, my bank account was stable, and I was feeling more confident as time passed.

I had not seen my family since my graduation. My sister had returned to Hogwarts for her fifth year, but neither of us had made any attempt at getting together. My parents had owled me a few times, expressing concern for my ability to function without their help, but I would not be swayed. I would never return to their home. Still, I dutifully responded to all their letters, promising that I was happy and well-fed and keeping up with my expenses, knowing that they would eventually calm down and accept the fact that their baby had fled the nest. I’d never asked for help, anyway; it wasn’t like I was requesting money or provisions to tide me over between paychecks. An antisocial creature, I didn’t need to waste money on dinner and drinks with the friends I didn’t have. I couldn’t relate to my coworkers anymore than I’d related to my former classmates. Outside of work, I never talked to people unless I deemed the exchange meaningful.

Though relatively friendly with some of the Death Eaters in my age group, I hadn’t spent enough time around them to consider them more than acquaintances. Our dynamic would likely advance soon, however, as the Death Eaters’ holiday gala was coming up—in two weeks, I would attend my first party, exclusively for Lord Voldemort’s followers and their partners.

I had no qualms about traveling to Malfoy Manor alone. I didn’t need a Plus One to lean on, having already developed the confidence necessary to stand on my own—I’d grown up an outcast and found it thrilling to simply be invited to a party in the first place. As reclusive as I was, I could acknowledge that it would be nice to have a few true friends; people I actually found interesting and fun to be around. This party would likely be a good place to start finding such people, since I would be surrounded with like-minded individuals in a casual setting for the first time in my life. Such an adventure had only existed in my imagination until now.

I’d had to scrimp on food for a few weeks to afford the dress I’d seen in a shop window in November, but I’d managed to scrounge up the required Galleons and snag the gown before someone else could. Thankfully, I’d held it together until I returned home before doing my victory dance.

 _What kind of dances might I be doing at the party?_ I wondered as I slipped the satin black and red dress into my bedroom closet before climbing into bed. Sleep was becoming more and more elusive as the date of the party was drawing nearer, but I knew my energy levels would skyrocket when the day arrived.

* * *

“Good evening, Alex,” Lucius greeted me in a polite yet restrained tone. He and Narcissa were standing in the foyer, welcoming the guests as they arrived. The Malfoys weren’t crazy about me, but they respected me enough to be cordial when discourse became necessary. Narcissa’s sister Bellatrix, on the other hand, was probably the closest thing to a friend I’d had since my Hogwarts days. We had bonded during my initiation, swapping stories of our teenage shenanigans and the reputations we’d built as powerhouses not to be crossed. She actually gave me a brief one-armed hug when she saw me enter the Manor for the party.

I caught a glimpse of Voldemort as I moved through the crowd—he was talking to Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, with no sign of ending their conversation. Their discussion appeared serious; none of the men smiled or shifted on their feet as they engaged, so perhaps they were conducting a mini-meeting right there, under the guise of socializing so as not to stand out too much. I found it surprising that Voldemort had come to the party at all, but perhaps even he enjoyed a change of scenery now and again. He looked as regal as the Lestrange men, in black dress robes that radiated formidable power and grace.

Even after being a Death Eater for four months, I still didn’t know what to make of our leader. The immortal Dark wizard appeared barely twenty, and yet he was almost eighty years old with no signs of slowing down. He conducted himself with the authority of a godlike being who knew exactly how special he was, and would cut down anyone who tried to challenge him. I had already seen him torture and murder Death Eaters whose egos had grown too large, thinking they could either talk back to their master or usurp his power. Unlike some of my comrades, the killing didn’t faze me—as long as I was not at the end of Voldemort’s wand, I felt relatively safe. I had received a tongue-lashing in September, when a dissenter I’d been assigned to kill had gotten away; but I had thankfully located the man a week later and finished the job, allowing me to escape the Dark Lord’s punishment. He hadn’t paid me much attention since then.

I only spoke to Voldemort when he addressed me in meetings, reporting on my progress when assigned a task, and asking the right questions during Dark Arts training sessions. He seemed pleased with my progress, but indifferent to my presence, if not a bit annoyed—his stare was potent, but his face remained in a perpetual scowl when he spoke to me. I wondered if he found me aggravating or pathetic, but I dared not ask. Grateful that he hadn’t seen fit to torture me, I didn’t want to give him reason to change his mind.

He’d acted mildly disinterested when I’d presented myself to him as a potential Death Eater. I had struck up a conversation with Lucius’s cousin Margo in a Dark Arts bookshop in Knockturn Alley not long after my Hogwarts graduation, and I’d been elated upon learning who she was. She’d arranged a meeting with Voldemort a few days later, and he’d branded me with the Dark Mark after assessing my character and potential in his ranks. After weeks of skulking around Knockturn Alley to try and meet Death Eaters, I’d felt victorious.

Margo Malfoy now looked as regal as her cousin, in a lime green sleeveless gown with sparkling diamond accents across the bodice. Her long blonde hair was tied up in an elegant bun, held together with a shimmering silver clip. Her companion stood out dramatically—a tall, rail-thin bleach blonde in solid white dress robes. Apparently, this was her pet Falcon in human form! I’d never seen him, in any shape, but I’d heard enough about the bizarre creature to figure out who he was before Margo introduced me. He was far too outgoing for my liking, but I spoke with him for a few minutes until Margo led him away.

Lulu Gilmore, Margo’s best friend, had chosen to attend the party without an escort. I found this surprising, given her striking good looks and magnetic sociability, until their friend Sheena Cobblepot let it slip that Lulu would be attempting to rack up a few potential suitors this evening. Sofia Brightwell, another girl from their group, tried to bet Margo ten Galleons that Lulu would leave with multiple men on her arm, but Margo flat-out told her to shut her mouth—Lulu may have been a social butterfly who enjoyed having options, but she was not a slag.

I giggled with the girls as they postulated how many hearts Lulu would capture in the next few hours, until Narcissa announced that all the guests had arrived and we would be moving to the ballroom upstairs.

It was hard not to gasp upon entering the grand chamber. It was easily the size of the Hogwarts Great Hall, with plenty of room to spare. Even though I’d been to the spacious Manor for Death Eater gatherings, I’d never ventured outside the meeting room, and I could not stop looking around in awe. I’d never seen such a display of wealth in one place!

“I’ll spray you with glitter again if you don’t stop gaping!” hissed Chicky, the self-named Pink Glitter Demon who had begun a tradition of showering newly-minted Death Eaters with enchanted glitter right after they’d been branded. I found it perplexing that Voldemort allowed such a bizarre outburst during initiations, but he hadn’t said a word when I’d squeaked in surprise after being hit with Chicky’s spell. Realizing that it had all been in good fun, however, I’d laughed off the prank and allowed Chicky to pat me on the back after removing the glitter from my person. Another longtime friend of Margo’s, this vivacious girl marched to the beat of her own drum and cared not for the opinions of others. She was like an extroverted version of me, with enough bubbly energy for both of us. I could see us becoming friends over time, as long as she would do most of the talking; I doubted that I possessed the stamina to keep up with her.

Chicky didn’t spray me with glitter this time, but she did prank me another way after the party had been going on for a while: she cast a spell to make a piece of my hair stand straight up and wiggle like Jell-o. And though she promised that she’d put it right again after a few minutes, I didn’t trust her not to have more tricks up her sleeve. I excused myself from the group and hurried to the bathroom to check on my appearance.

The glittery witch had been telling the truth after all, but I still felt better after seeing my normal-looking reflection in the bathroom mirror. I ran a hand through my hair and leaned in close to check my makeup, which was holding up rather nicely. Maybe I was still too standoffish to attract a date—or even a dance partner at party, for that matter—but at least I looked good. And the party _had_ been entertaining thus far. I’d had a blast chatting with Margo and her friends, I’d enjoyed the savory food, and I hadn’t felt _too_ weird standing off to the side while all the couples danced across the ballroom. It was nice that I wasn’t the only one without a partner, and that no one made any nasty comments about my lack of male attention. I felt more myself here than I’d ever felt at Hogwarts.

I smiled to myself as I exited the bathroom, lost in my thoughts until I jumped back in surprise—a figure was standing in the darkened hallway, blocking my path back to the ballroom. For a split second, I wondered if the person was tipsy or playing a prank; but when I looked up, I saw that I was face-to-face with Voldemort. And he looked as stern and alert as ever.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, stepping back a bit farther before bowing my head in reverence. “I’m sorry, my Lord; I didn’t mean to—”

“Are you all right, dear?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “You seem a bit out of sorts.”

My eyes widened. “W-what do you mean, out of sorts? I’m...fine; I was just—”

And for the first time ever, his lips turned upward at the sight of me. I probably should have felt relieved that he wasn’t angry with me for nearly slamming into him, but my heart began beating faster and my stomach clenched. It wasn’t like him to... _smile._ At best, he smirked on occasion. What was on his mind?

“You rushed off to the bathroom, looking decidedly annoyed after laughing with your friends for quite a while,” he remarked. “It was a sudden change in your demeanor. Do I need to give someone a dressing-down for bothering you?”

I froze. Having barely seen him at all this evening, I had no idea that he’d been keeping such a close watch on me. Why? Where had he been? How had he observed me without my knowledge? And why did he even care if someone had aggravated me? He’d only ever treated me like an underling with my work cut out for me, if I were to one day earn his respect. And given his impossibly high standards, I was sure I wouldn’t get to that point for years—and not without suffering a few scrapes along the way. I was still amazed that he hadn’t tortured me yet.

“Oh! Um—no, my Lord, you don’t have to do that. Chicky played a prank on my hair, but she fixed it. I was just checking my reflection to make sure I looked normal. I hope that’s...okay with you?”

“It is. And your hair looks as lovely as ever. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

I chuckled nervously, not understanding the man’s behavior. It seemed out of character—following someone to check on their wellbeing? Caring about a person’s appearance? This was not the Voldemort I was accustomed to dealing with. Was he drunk after all?

His smile widened, presumably from reading my thoughts. The world’s most powerful Legilimens looked neither angry nor displeased, but something in his facial expression turned my stomach. I barely had time to register my alarm when the Dark Lord’s cold hand closed around my wrist and gripped tightly.

“Come with me,” he ordered, his grin vanishing instantly.

He set off at a brisk pace, forcing me to comply before I could utter a word of protest.


	16. Alternate Beginning 4 | Chapter 2

“Where are we going?” I asked the Dark Lord as he pulled me down the hallway, turning a corner to lead me away from the revelry.

“The parlor.”

“How come? The party’s back that w—”

“I’m aware of our comrades’ location, Alex. If I wanted to take you back there, I would. Now stop with the questions.”

I bit my lip. Was he about to punish me? Kill me? What had I done to anger him? I was loyal! I followed his orders to a T! Could I convince him to calm down and let me be?

He stalked into the parlor without a backward glance, not even to close the door. After leading me over to the plush velvet couch, he finally released my wrist and sat down, patting the empty spot next to him. I obeyed.

“Is—is everything all right?” I stammered, my forehead wrinkling in concern.

He stared at me for another moment before smirking slightly, and resting his arm on the top of the cushions. I was glad that I’d sat down as far away from him as possible; had I not, he could have easily reached out and touched me without extending his arm too much.

“Are you aware that, apart from myself, you are the only person here who is not drinking?”

Now I stared.

“I’m not being funny, Alex. We are the only sober individuals in this house. And I don’t know about you, but if I want to have a productive conversation, I prefer to keep my voice even and not shout over a bunch of drunken idiots. Their belligerence was getting on my nerves—hence my decision to bring you here. It’s calm and peaceful, wouldn’t you say?”

“W-what do you want to talk about?”

“I have always found you a fascinating individual. As young as you are, you have quite a good head on your shoulders, and your sense of personal responsibility is impressive. You lack the typical carefree naïveté of most people your age—rather like me, when I first set out on my own. I could never much relate to others, either; nor did I wish to do so.”

I couldn’t look at him. Though his words sounded harmless, I suddenly felt exposed, like a test subject in a potions lab. I shifted so that I was facing forward, staring straight ahead instead of looking at the mystifying man beside me. Too anxious to lean back, I remained firmly upright. My finger nails lightly grazed the cushion on which I sat.

“I never imagined that you thought highly of me,” I finally offered after a brief silence, during which Voldemort’s gaze had never left my person. “You seemed to view me as annoying; I’ve always worried that I was bothering you when I—any time I’ve asked you a question during training.”

“No, no, dear. Far from it.”

While I’d begun floundering for a reply, he had edged closer. His robes were now a hair’s breadth away from brushing against my dress. The moment I thought about getting up and moving, a firm hand gripped my shoulder. There was nothing cordial about such a gesture; it was a warning.

“Thaaat’s a good girl,” he murmured when I sat back against the cushions, attempting to relax. It didn’t work; even after a few deep breaths, my muscles were still rigidly tense. A knot was forming in my lower back.

The Dark Lord was still grasping my shoulder, rubbing lightly. Arranging my hair so that it would shield my eyes from Voldemort’s view, I tried to hide my frantic glances around the room.

“Are you going to sit still and listen properly, or will I need to employ more drastic measures to keep you attentive?”

“I—I’ll sit still,” I whispered shakily.

“That’s what I thought. Now, as I was saying: I’ve always paid you close attention—but I’m glad you hadn’t noticed until tonight. You’d only just begun to embark on your service to me over the summer, and it would not do to have given you an inflated sense of self, now would it?”

“I suppose not....”

“You have, of course, proven your worth to me—more than you realize—but I didn’t think it right to give you special treatment from the beginning. I needed you to feel determined to earn my respect first.”

“...And have I?”

“You have indeed.”

He slid his hand down my arm and finally withdrew to rest his arm on the cushion behind me. The gesture unsettled me; he was too close.

I also found his words difficult to believe. He was a classic smooth talker, telling people what they wanted to hear when he required something of them. But what more did he want from _me?_ I didn’t know anyone he could recruit, I wasn’t wealthy or well-connected outside of his ranks, and I was barely an adult. I was still getting accustomed to standing on my own. Why would he say such things to me? And what was with that bloody _stare?_ Couldn’t he look away once in a while?

“I—well, thank you, my Lord. I must say I’m a bit surprised; I never thought you would respect anyone at all. You didn’t seem to be that type of person.”

“And what _is_ your impression of me? I’m curious.”

I afforded him a quick glance, and then looked back at my lap. “May I speak freely? I don’t want to get cursed for saying the wrong thing.”

“Of course, love. As long as you address me respectfully, you may say whatever you wish. Speak your mind.”

Some of the tension left my body, but I wasn’t comfortable fully relaxing yet. My heart pounded as I gathered my thoughts before answering the Dark Lord’s question.

“I think you’re very...ambitious. Cutthroat. You have an insatiable appetite for knowledge and power. You know that you’re more intelligent and magically gifted than, well...anyone, and you only value people if they have something you want. I’m honestly surprised to see you at this party; I figured you would consider a social gathering a waste of time.”

“How astute of you.”

“ _Do_ you consider it a waste of time?” I chuckled. Suddenly curious about his response, I shifted a bit so that I was almost facing him.

“Yes and no. I have been discussing serious matters with some of our comrades this evening, but I am also mildly interested in observing my followers outside of the meeting room. I can get a better read on their personalities this way—such a study allows me to discover new ways that my servants can provide value. A perfect example is sitting right next to me.”

“...What.”

“Have you not noticed how much we have in common?”

I blinked.

“Alex, your description of me could very well have been of yourself. Granted, you’re not nearly as power-hungry as I am; but you do know your worth and your capabilities, and you don’t waste time engaging in small talk. And shall I assume this is the only social event you’ve attended since you’ve left Hogwarts?”

“Yes—”

“And if you were to socialize more regularly, would you not prefer a more...intimate gathering? Only for people with whom you can identify, so the conversation is always fulfilling?”

My heart sped up. Something about this conversation didn’t feel right. “I don’t mean to be rude, but—what does it matter to you, how I socialize? Why would you...care?”

“Because I wish to socialize with you. The way we are now.” He tucked my hair behind my ear.

“Oh my god,” I breathed, having finally caught his meaning. Were I standing, I would have swayed a bit as the weight of his words crashed onto me. My head felt lighter, my face colder, my mouth dry. I gripped the arm of the couch and closed my eyes while inhaling slowly. Trying to center myself didn’t work, as the Dark Lord took hold of my free hand and kissed my knuckles. And then the inside of my wrist.

“I told you I found you intriguing,” he drawled, his lips now on my ear. He stroked my hand while holding it up to his neck, right by his quickening pulse. “What exactly did you think I meant, if not this?” When I gasped and attempted to squirm away, he snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me against his chest.

“W-why?” I protested as he tilted my chin back to rest my head on his shoulder. “You—you don’t socialize. Why do—why are you doing this?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you? Come now, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“But it doesn’t make any s—”

 _“I desire you,”_ he growled into my neck. _“Profoundly._ Such matters cannot be explained or justified; you know this.”

His left hand released my chin and covered my mouth before I could utter another word, gripping tightly while his lips traveled up and down my throat. I whimpered against his fingers, squirming and struggling until his teeth clamped down on my nape. Any more struggling would have resulted in bloody, torn skin. My body went rigid.

Not only was I terrified of my predicament, but the parlor door was also open. Someone could walk in! That was the last thing I needed—being molested with an audience. I’d never live that down. If anyone other than Voldemort were doing this, a bystander would probably step in on my behalf, but no one would dare interrupt the most powerful wizard in the world. Not if they valued their life.

Biting turned to kissing and licking as his hands cupped my breasts, stroking them over my dress.

“You are the most beautiful creature I’ve seen in years,” he murmured. “I’ve no idea how I managed to keep my hands off of you until now.”

He was caressing my breasts with very little pressure, and so I bolted upright and began running for the door. Which suddenly slammed shut and locked.

I whirled around to see Voldemort standing in front of the couch, his wand extended. He no longer looked amused.

“You really are a headstrong little thing, aren’t you?” he jeered. “I’ve half a mind to bend you over that chair and take you right now, as punishment. And I think I’d prefer it if you _didn’t_ enjoy it.”

_Backtrack. Apologize. Tell him what he wants to hear. He won’t let you leave unless you placate him enough._

He laughed loudly. “I’ll bet you wish you knew Occlumency, don’t you, love. But it’s no matter; nothing you say will convince me to lose interest in you. Now get back over here.”

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” I muttered as I reluctantly sauntered over to the couch.

“Are you? I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“Why?”

“Come closer.”

I inched forward. “What do you want me to—”

_“Crucio.”_

In the nanosecond before I fell to the ground, a voice in my head whispered, _Well, there it is. He’s finally torturing you. No one becomes a Death Eater and escapes punishment; you’re not special._

I writhed and shrieked as untenable agony tore through my body. And then I screamed louder, hoping to attract a wandering houseguest—perhaps someone would overhear the commotion and distract this maniac long enough for me to get a moment’s rest.

The Dark Lord stood over me, expressionless, keeping his wand in place. My head banged against his shoes, and my fingers clawed at nothing, trying to grab his wand and point it at something other than me.

“Scream as loudly as you want, sweetheart. No one will hear you. They’re too far away, and too immersed in their revelry. None of them are the least bit worried about you.”

Several minutes passed before he decided that I’d been punished enough. Even after he lowered his wand, I still lay on the floor, heaving and whimpering. My limbs shook from the lingering waves of pain.

“Alex, you’re not here to lie on the bloody floor and feel sorry for yourself. Stand.”

I staggered to my feet, holding the coffee table for support. “I just—can we please just talk about this first? It’s a lot for me to—”

“What’s there to talk about? You want this as much as I. And I will not allow any more insubordination. You’ve been one of my most well-behaved up until now; you should know better than to act out like this.”

I gaped. “What the—acting out?! How on Earth can you say something so—”

“Sit down.”

“Could we just—”

“SIT. DOWN.”

The look on his face made me flinch—eyes blazing, jaw clenched, lips pressed together. I struggled not to tremble. I took my seat, but refused to look at the Dark Lord, even though I could feel his gaze like icy pinpricks on my flesh. Was he about to curse me again?

“Have you forgotten the scope of my Legilimency?” he asked, his quiet voice still laced with fury as he sat beside me.

“What do you mean?”

“I not only can read a person’s thoughts; I can also delve deep into their subconscious and see truths that elude them. For example, you have desired me for years. You refuse to acknowledge this because you need to view your longing for my approval as a benchmark of your success; your competency and dedication to studying the Dark Arts. While this wish is certainly valid, it is virtually impossible to be as fascinated with a person as you are with me—especially given all the traits we share—without developing an underlying sexual attraction. You flushed a deep rose when I first touched your face, which would not have happened if you felt nothing for me. You would have looked at me with revulsion and indignant rage, instead of staring at the floor and tensing up as you fought your body’s response to me.”

My heart dropped. There was no way he was being truthful. Yes, his Legilimency was unparalleled, but he also knew how to feed people the right words to make them question themselves. I would not be fooled. I knew when I found someone attractive and when I didn’t. I could admit that the current sensation of Voldemort’s hand stroking my hair was pleasant, but that wasn’t because it was _him._ Maybe he knew how to touch a person in pleasurable ways, but physiological responses didn’t always match a person’s emotions—people could orgasm while being raped, but the stimulation would still be rape. The Dark Lord surely knew this; unfortunately, he would surely twist and contort the truth to suit his needs, no matter what I had to say about it.

“And since I know you’re going to fight me every step of the way as I prove this to you,” he added, “I will take extra care to give your body exactly what it needs. Your mind might not be able to keep up, but that’s a setback easily overlooked. My goal tonight is to finally convince you to admit your attraction to me—and not merely in words.”

“W-what?” I croaked. “How—what are you going to do?” It felt like the air was warming and caving in around me, pressing down on my organs and preventing me from taking a full breath.

“I’m going to remove your clothing. Slowly. I will restrain you so that you cannot resist, and then I will kiss every inch of your body. And that will only be the beginning.”

I doubled over, gripping my hair in both hands while I pressed my forehead to my knees. I wasn’t sure what scared me more—the urge to throw up, or the sudden pulsing in between my legs. There was _no way_ I wanted to go to bed with the Dark Lord. It was simply impossible. Perhaps I was a bit sexually frustrated, not having received so much as my first kiss; but I wasn’t going to jump into the arms of the first man who showed interest in me, either. I had more self-respect than that. I’d rather take care of myself than wait for someone else to do it for me. Especially someone like _him._

“Do you require any further elaboration, or can you piece together what will happen next? I possess no qualms about using explicit language.”

_But that doesn’t mean I want to hear it._

He hooked his fingers under the fabric of my dress and pulled me back up to a sitting position. “Stop pretending you don’t want this.”

“But I don’t! I swear!”

“Yes, you do. Your thoughts and your body language tell me so. With this performance of resistance, the only person you’re hurting is yourself.”

“If anyone is hurting me, it’s you. You’re not giving me a choice.”

“Of course I’m giving you a choice: the choice to surrender to both of our desires and enjoy yourself, or pretend your arousal doesn’t exist and then endure further punishment for your disobedience. You absolutely want my touch, and you want it now. You’re flushed, you’re breathing so quickly that it’s practically _panting,_ and you’re squeezing your thighs together. Don’t think your dress is covering that.”

I immediately smoothed out the fabric over my legs, trying to make it look natural as I slowly pulled my thighs apart a few inches. No sooner had my palms left my lap, the Dark Lord shoved his hand in between my legs and gripped tightly. He pressed his fingers against the apex of my thighs while his other hand yanked my hair back. I jumped at the unexpected jolt of pleasure.

“I’m going to put my tongue there,” he murmured in my ear, “just like this.” He flicked the tip of his tongue over my neck. “And I’m not going to stop until you scream.”

I squirmed. Try as I might, I could not banish the sudden image of the Dark Lord’s face buried deep in between my legs, licking and sucking relentlessly. The throbbing pressure building inside me was almost painful, and I was absolutely mortified. A muffled whimper escaped my throat.

“Short of the Imperius Curse, what do I have to do to convince you to lower your inhibitions? I will not be patient much longer. I do want you to enjoy this, but not at the expense of my tolerance. And since you don’t drink alcohol, my options are limited. I require your cooperation.”

After withdrawing his hand from in between my thighs, he cupped my chin and turned my face toward his. Again, I could not look at him. My cheeks burned in embarrassment as his thumb stroked my mouth.

And then his lips were on mine.

He gripped my face to keep me still, while placing feathery kisses to my lips. Holding my breath was the only way to stop myself from reacting.

“Open your mouth,” he mumbled. “Don’t think; just do what comes naturally. And follow my lead.”

I reluctantly parted my lips, allowing him to slide his tongue inside. The sensation was mildly satisfying—if not invasive, given the circumstances—but I tried to enjoy it anyway. He kissed me harder and harder, and I felt the vibration of his groans against my mouth as his breathing spiked.

“Stop thinking so much,” he ordered, snaking his hands around my back and deftly unzipping me. “Lie down and stretch out your arms.”

My hands shook as I followed his instructions; as uneasy as I was, I didn’t want to be cursed again. My current position _was_ preferable.

I squeezed my eyes shut when I felt my dress being tugged down. The cool air on my bare skin made me shiver, and I reflexively pulled my arms around my midsection for warmth.

“If you would just bloody loosen up already, you wouldn’t even feel the cold,” he barked, flicking his wand and rendering my arms immobile against the arm of the couch. I could only flex my fingers, and so I balled my hands into fists to try and rein in my terror.

The Dark Lord climbed onto my shaking body and wrapped my legs around his back, grinding his erection against my pelvis while placing hard kisses all over my face and neck. I shivered at the contact, wondering if the goosebumps were from the cold or from something else—something I still wasn’t ready to consider, even as I arched into the strong hands massaging my breasts.

He took advantage of the extra space behind my back, and unhooked my bra. Sliding the garment up my immobilized arms, he let it fall to the ground, grinning in triumph before pointing his wand at my hands. A rope sprang from nowhere and bound my wrists before affixing itself to the legs of the couch.

“No...!” I tried to break free of my bonds, but the resulting sharp pain told me that it would be best to lie still.

“Yesss,” he hissed, letting his hungry gaze roam over my body.

My head spun when firm hands caressed my waist, sliding up and down. I wondered if the Dark Lord had been right, and I had subconsciously been lusting after him for ages—or if I was simply thrilled about the concept of engaging in sexual behavior, period. It was true that I’d never considered bedding him, but I _had_ felt a strange stirring in my stomach as I’d gazed at his Hogwarts yearbook picture during my seventh year. I’d wanted so desperately to make him proud, and I’d become excited at the prospect of meeting him and gaining his favor. Had I known that his _favor_ would take such an obscene turn, however, perhaps I would have thought twice about presenting myself to him like an offering.

I certainly felt like an offering to him now: bound, exposed, and shaking with confusion as he glided his lips and tongue all over my breasts. I hated the swelling tension in between my thighs almost as much as I hated being forced into this position. I wanted to let go and enjoy it, and yet I didn’t. I worried that giving in would make me easy and gullible, things I swore I never would become. Even if he violated my body, I could still keep my pride.

As embarrassed as I was, however, I could admit that the Dark Lord knew what he was doing. I wondered how many women he’d slept with, and whether or not they’d been willing. Maybe one day I would ask him...one day when I wasn’t shuddering beneath him as he sucked my nipples and rubbed his length against my clitoris. I clenched my fists and moaned, my face scrunched up while my body shook. My thighs clamped around the Dark Lord’s waist until the shockwaves abated. I barely felt the warm tongue lapping at my heaving breasts and traveling down my stomach.

My shoes, hose, and damp underwear were tossed to the floor moments later, replaced by lingering kisses creeping up my legs. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back.

“Watch what I’m doing,” he demanded, his face inches from my dripping sex. “I want to stimulate you visually as well as physically. And I don’t want your mind anywhere but here, with me.”

He certainly hadn’t been kidding about using explicit language—I felt my face and neck warming at his words, as well as the scorching look in his eyes as he began licking and sucking the fluid off of my soaked folds. My thighs opened wider of their own accord, and I couldn’t stop myself from arching my behind off the couch to press myself more firmly against the Dark Lord’s mouth. He reached under me and grabbed my cheeks while driving his tongue deep, growling in satisfaction. I felt a bizarre urge to reach down and grip his hair to pull him closer, and I was suddenly grateful that the rope prevented me from doing so.

At least, I was grateful until the Dark Lord withdrew his tongue and sneered up at me like he’d just learned an enemy’s dirty secret. Merlin—did he ever stop with the Legilimency? On top of everything else he was doing, it seemed so unfair.

“Just admit it,” he murmured. “You want me.”

I bit my lip and scowled as I stared up at the ceiling—and then yelped when I felt a sharp bite on my inner thigh.

“I didn’t tell you to look away. Don’t you dare start disobeying me now; I will not allow you release otherwise.”

I looked back down at him, enjoying the feel of his tongue licking me up and down, but not comfortable voicing my thoughts.

“You think you’re uncomfortable now? Talk to me after I bring you to the edge ten times, always pulling away at the last second. _Uncomfortable_ will be putting it mildly.”

I whimpered and spread my legs wider.

“Say it. Say it now. That’s an order.”

“I—” Fuck, why did I have to verbalize it? He’d been roving through my thoughts nonstop, and he’d humiliated me enough tonight. Why did he have to rub salt in the wound?

The words died in my throat. I could barely breathe, much less speak. I began to panic, worried that he would torture me; instead, he wound his arms around my thighs, spread my swollen folds, and began licking my clitoris.

Though I’d imagined what the motion might feel like when he’d flicked his tongue on my neck moments earlier, there were no words to describe this rapturous sensation. I moaned loudly, shaking as much from the pleasure as from the look on the Dark Lord’s face and the sight of his tongue working me up. He seemed equally aroused by the activity—breathing heavily, gripping my thighs tightly, and snarling up at me as if daring me to tell him that I wasn’t falling for him.

And, as per his threat, he withdrew seconds before I would have peaked. He kept his arms wound tightly around my thighs, so I couldn’t even squirm.

“Please...please...oh, my Lord, _please!!”_

_“Say it!”_

I closed my eyes and dug my fingernails into my palms. “Okay, okay, fine! I w—I want you.”

“Look me in the eye, Alex. Look me in the eye and tell me you have always desired me—as I have always desired you.”

Biting my lip, I reluctantly looked back down at him. “I have...always— _ohh!”_

He began stimulating me again, licking frantically until I was inches from release. A few tears of frustration slipped out.

“Last chance, love. Speak the words, with no hesitation, or you will not come tonight. And I can keep this up for an _awfully_ long time.”

I took a deep breath, blinked away my tears, and looked into his eyes. “I’ve always desired you.”

The words had finally left my lips—barely above a whisper, but they were audible. If I actually believed those words remained to be seen.

“Good girl,” he whispered, kissing the top of my pubic area before resuming his sensual assault. This time, he dragged me over the precipice and allowed me to shudder my way through the mind-bending bliss. He forced me from one climax to the next, until I was screaming for relief. I collapsed in exhaustion after six or seven orgasms—I’d lost track—and only had the energy to flutter my eyelids open when I heard the Dark Lord unbuckling his pants.

And then he was inside me, moving slowly as my inner walls adjusted to his length. The quick burst of pain hadn’t been as bad as I’d been expecting—but then again, I had also never expected to lose my virginity after being pleasured into oblivion. And by Lord Voldemort, of all people.

The discomfort quickly morphed into ecstasy, and I cried out another release as the Dark Lord thrust harder and harder. He growled against my throat while riding out his own climax, and lay atop me for another moment until he’d caught his breath.

My arms were freed and my skin cleaned before I’d even opened my eyes, when I saw Voldemort sitting on a nearby chair, calm and presentable once more as if he hadn’t just been ravishing me.

“As much as I enjoy looking at your body, I’ll advise you to dress soon,” he remarked. “Everyone is surely wondering where we’ve gone.”

I sat up and swore under my breath. “What if they figure it out?”

“That’s of no concern to me.”

He may have been lackadaisical about our encounter, but I certainly was not. I was still fiercely private and cringed at the thought of all my comrades knowing what had just transpired.

“Leave the parlor before me if it means that much to you,” he drawled as he watched me dress. “Make up whatever story you’d like to justify your disappearance; it doesn’t matter to me.”

“So...you won’t care if I tell them that I only took a walk to clear my head?”

“Say whatever you wish. I’ll come find you later on.”

“For—for what?”

He only smirked, before pulling me in for a kiss. “You’ll find out.”


	17. Alternate Beginning 4 | Chapter 3

“Merlin’s beard, Alex! How long does it take to fix your hair?”

I laughed off Chicky’s comment, pretending my stomach wasn’t roiling. “Not too long; I just decided to take a breather afterwards.”

“That was quite a breather,” Sheena remarked. “I didn’t realize we tired you out so much. Where did you go?”

“I took a walk around the house.”

“Oh, so now you’re snooping?” Margo drawled. “Should we hide the valuables?”

I rolled my eyes, but played along with the teasing.

Not much had changed since I’d exited the ballroom; people were still dancing, drinking, and milling about. Thankfully, my sudden absence had not been a big deal, and so my friends quickly forgot about it as we began talking of other things. Save the explicit memories flashing through my mind for the next hour, I managed to act normal and avoid any more unwanted attention.

Until I felt hands stroking my shoulders. I whirled around and saw Voldemort standing before me, arm extended.

“May I have this dance?”

I paused before responding, suddenly feeling that prickly sensation on my skin again. “Um...okay.”

I could only hope that I wasn’t blushing as I accepted the Dark Lord’s proffered hand before he led me onto the dance floor. I snuck a wide-eyed glance back to my bewildered friends, and mouthed _I don’t know!_ before turning back around. And then a tug on my hand nearly tripped me up; I’d apparently paused too long for Voldemort’s liking when I’d tried to communicate my shock to the other girls.

There was a mischievous glint in the Dark Lord’s eyes, but he otherwise looked quite serious. He slipped his right arm around my back and pulled me close, while taking my right hand and interlacing our fingers. His gaze never left my face.

He wasn’t the only one staring; I looked around and saw a few other people murmuring and gawking at us as I tentatively placed my left hand on his shoulder—he hadn’t danced with anyone until this point. I wondered if he’d ever done so before this party, but didn’t feel comfortable asking; I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

“Like I told you in the parlor: focus only on me,” he ordered. “Don’t worry about them. They’re merely jealous.”

“I’m not accustomed to being envied; I’m usually the one doing the envying.”

“Not anymore.” He pulled me closer and kissed my temple. “So, what did you end up telling the girls?”

“That I needed some air and I’d walked around for a while.”

“And did they believe you?”

“I think so.”

We fell silent as he swayed me back and forth in time with the music. It was hard not to keep looking around and trying to gauge people’s reactions, or rehearsing what I might have to say to defend myself—especially to the girls, who were quickly becoming more than acquaintances. Given their flabbergasted facial expressions a moment eariler, they would surely want all the details.

I expected the Dark Lord to walk away after the song finished, but he kept me in position. We barely spoke; he simply accentuated his tight grip as each song began and ended, signaling that he was not ready to let go of me.

“Have you any idea how hard it is for me not to kiss you senseless?” he murmured in my ear as yet another song began to play. “Especially since your lips are still a bit swollen from our time together. I’d like to make them more so.”

I fidgeted, feeling my core heat up.

“You live alone, yes?” he asked after a short pause.

“Yes....”

“Fabulous. We’ll have more privacy that way.”

“What—”

“I will accompany you home after the party. I’ve not yet had my fill of you tonight.” He kissed my forehead again.

Now I was certainly blushing.

“Ah, yes—lovely to finally see some color on those pale cheeks. I should do this more often.”

“Do...what more often?”

“Arouse you and embarrass you simultaneously. I quite like your response.”

About half an hour passed before he finally released me and then turned away without a word. I felt too awkward to return to my friends, whom I knew would hound me with questions— _What was that about? What did he say? What does he want?—_ and I no longer had the energy to feign calm. Turning on my heel, I slipped out of the ballroom and headed for the bathroom once more. Perhaps if I hid in there until the party ended, I could quietly leave the Manor without making any more waves.

Unfortunately, the loo was occupied, and so I had to stand impatiently by the door until it opened a few minutes later. I turned my head and saw Bellatrix step out into the hallway. She was someone I hadn’t been speaking to for the past few hours, so she’d likely not care enough to ask any probing questions.

At least, that was what I initially assumed. I expected a friendly hello from her, or a small smile, but she instead scowled at me and stood up straighter.

“Ahh, he’s finally tired of you, has he?” she drawled.

“W- _what?_ What are you talking about?”

“He was all over you in the ballroom, but now he’s nowhere to be found—he’s no longer manhandling you and pretending to hang on every word you say. He doesn’t care for you, you know. Don’t be fooled.”

“What the hell? I didn’t ask him to—”

“You didn’t ask, but he could still see that you were naïve enough to believe his act. And he’ll toss you aside as soon as he finds someone better; mark my words.”

“Oh my god, you’re in love with him!”

“And you’re not?”

“No! Of course not! I’ve never—I’ve never thought about him _that_ way. I only danced with him because, well—I didn’t want to piss him off! No one says no to him and comes out unscathed; you _know_ that.”

“Bollocks, Alex. You blushed in his arms. I saw it; everyone did. And you were looking up at him with such _longing..._.”

“I absolutely was _not._ And anyway, it was just a dance. It wasn’t a big deal to me. If you want to dance with him so badly, then why don’t you just ask him? Don’t play the victim, blaming me for—”

She put her hands on her hips and stepped in closer. I could see her nostrils flaring and feel her breath on my face. The woman may have had admirable self-control, but there was no mistaking her fury.

“Don’t you _dare_ stand there and act like a clueless, wholesome little princess!” she spat, pointing a long, red fingernail in my face. “You saw that lustful look in his eyes as well as I, and you _certainly_ felt him kissing your forehead every five bloody minutes! At least I can tell you that it won’t last; if you really are gullible enough to fall for him, don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart because you’re no longer useful to him! He may want your body, but nothing else!”

“Okay, first of all: I am _not_ gullible! Second: you can’t blame me for someone else’s behavior! Don’t talk to me like I’m a homewrecking whore looking to break up s—”

“You strut in here, head held high, pretending you don’t actually know how young and pretty you are, and _ohhh, you just so happen_ to catch the attention of the most powerful man in the world! What _rotten_ luck. Like you weren’t hoping to entice him all along! But as I just told you: don’t come running to me when he tires of you. I’ve seen it firsthand and I will not entertain some barely-legal slut acting like she actually understands that kind of pain!”

“Oh, that’s rich. You think you have a monopoly on heartbreak?! I could tell you stories that would—”

“Bellatrix! Alex! What on Earth is going on?”

The enraged woman jumped back at the sound of her sister’s voice. And though she tried to act calm, she was still spitting venom as she spun a tale of me snatching her beloved from her arms. Even though she was married to someone else. Narcissa attempted to reason with Bellatrix, but the older woman would not be swayed. After a few minutes of whispered hissing, so as not to be overheard by the other guests, she finally folded her arms and fell silent.

“This is really a shame, you know,” I told her. “I thought we could have been friends. I had no ill will toward you until you started calling me names like a twelve-year-old.”

“You _stop_ with that phony goody-two-shoes bullsh—”

“Bella, calm yourself!” Narcissa gripped her sister’s shoulder and marched her down the hall. As soon as the women were out of sight, I whirled into the bathroom and locked the door.

Utterly bewildered, I sank back against the wall and sighed heavily.

What on Earth had just happened? How had I gone from feeling violated to being called a slut? And with Bellatrix being one of the most powerful, loyal Death Eaters—if not _the_ most—how could I be sure that she wouldn’t try to harm me? I was certainly powerful myself, but Bellatrix had decades more experience than I. She could wipe the floor with me in a heart beat.

I may not have wanted to walk around feeling like a victim, but I also knew how to pick my battles. And a battle with Bellatrix Lestrange was not a battle easily won. I resolved to stay in the bathroom for a while longer; perhaps the woman would calm down by the time I emerged. I didn’t fancy being tortured by another person tonight.

“Alex, are you in there?” Sheena’s voice called out about twenty minutes later.

My heart sank. “Yeah....”

“Are you all right?”

 _Fuck._ I opened the door, trying not to look as aggravated as I felt. “I’m—not feeling so hot right now.”

“I can see that. Do you have a stomach bug, or a case of the butterflies?”

“A case of the _what?”_

“You know—like when you’re nervous or excited, and you say you have butterflies in your stomach!”

Her wording was so ridiculous, I couldn’t help but laugh. I mumbled that I wasn’t even sure _what_ I was feeling, but I’d definitely needed to get away from the ballroom for a while. Which was the truth. She asked me if Voldemort had spooked me by asking me to dance, and I waved her off—I was not ready to discuss the man. I didn’t even want to think about him.

After a few more goofy comments about butterflies, Sheena changed the subject to some mischief Falcon had gotten into while I’d been in the bathroom—something about hogging the snacks and getting drunk while Margo yelled at him for his obstinacy. I only half-listened.

I looked around for Bellatrix as I followed Sheena back into the ballroom; were she to come at me with her wand extended, I’d need to be prepared. Surprisingly, she was nowhere to be found—and the crowd had thinned considerably. It appeared that the party was finally nearing its end.

Margo and Sofia were still talking by the refreshments, while Lulu was leaving the room with a man who looked utterly infatuated with her. I would have chuckled at the sight, were I not so nervous.

“Well, there she is!” Sofia exclaimed. “Why do you keep running off?”

“I think she’s got bu—”

“Would you stop with the butterflies?!”

“What butterflies?” Margo asked.

“Nothing; it doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Sofia pressed. “You took off as soon as the Dark Lord let go of you. Did he turn you on or traumatize you?”

Everyone laughed but me.

“Honestly, I don’t even know what’s going on right now. I’m—my head is in ten different places at once.”

“Well, the festivities are winding down, so maybe you should go home and get some sleep.”

“Agreed. All right, I guess I’ll be heading out, then.” I hugged my friends goodbye and made my way out of the ballroom, while casting a warming spell to protect me from the elements.

I snuck a few glances around the ballroom before slipping out the door, noting that Voldemort was nowhere to be seen. As much as I’d enjoyed the latter part of our encounter in the parlor, I wouldn’t have minded one bit if he’d decided to leave the party by himself instead of coming home with me. I would have preferred being alone with my thoughts, turning over everything that had happened and trying to formulate a plan to move forward. More than likely, he would view his little disappearing act as a form of teasing; ramping up the anticipation and trying to make me crave his presence. Instead, I’d simply go home quietly and use the ensuing silence to center myself. The thought calmed me considerably and I felt tension release in my back and shoulders.

The hallway was deserted. Quiet voices wafted up from the first floor, from people saying their goodbyes and making plans to get together after the holidays. I breathed a sigh of relief that a certain male voice was not among them; it appeared that I would have my blessed alone time tonight.

As much as I loved my solitude, however, I wondered if I would be spending some time with Margo and the rest of her group in the coming year—more than likely, considering how much fun we’d had this evening. It would be interesting to see how I could cultivate a social life as an adult, with people whose company I actually enjoyed. This was a new concept, and the possibilities thrilled me.

I had just cleared the stairs when a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me backward. I yelped.

“And where do you think you’re going in such a hurry?” the Dark Lord hissed in my ear, gripping my arm even tighter as he pulled me against his chest with his free hand. “Did you think you could leave without me noticing? Were you hoping to back out of our plans for tonight?”

“Oh! I—well, I didn’t see you, so I thought maybe you’d changed your mind and—”

I stopped talking when I saw the look in his eyes—I couldn’t tell if it was anger or lust. Or a combination of the two. Either way, I didn’t feel safe saying anything else, other than apologizing.

He shook his head and clicked his tongue before marching me out the door.

My stomach lurched when I saw a few people outside—there was no way I could conceal myself, or prevent anyone from inferring what would happen between the Dark Lord and me once we’d left the Manor. Despite my mortification, Voldemort kept a tight hold on my arm and showed no interest in feigning less intimate behavior.

Would they gossip about me? Was I about to become known as the group slut? I knew that some of the Death Eaters wouldn’t care how the Dark Lord spent his free time; but others might not be as mature. I didn’t fancy a repeat performance of Hogwarts—having to constantly look over my shoulder to make sure insecure idiots weren’t trying to harm me in order to create an illusion of control over their lives. Some people never grew up and learned to mind their own bloody business.

“Don’t worry about them—or Bellatrix,” he muttered as we walked down to the front gate. “I had a word with her. She will not be bothering you again. And if anyone else wants to harass you, or speak ill of you because we’re sleeping together, you have my permission to end the problem however you see fit. You’re not in school anymore; you will not be punished for standing up for yourself.”

“We’re s—you’re making it sound like we’re... _together_.”

One corner of his mouth turned upward and he pulled me closer. “We’ll talk about this back at your flat. Let’s go.”

After I took one last look around, we Disapparated.


	18. Alternate Beginning 4 | Chapter 4

As soon as we landed, the Dark Lord grabbed my wrists and pinned me to the wall. His lips pressed so forcefully against mine, it almost hurt. I wanted to tell him to slow down—Merlin, could we just _talk_ for a few minutes, instead of rushing into physical behavior? We’d barely even spoken, ever, until a few hours ago!

He wasn’t interested in talking. As soon as he released my lips, he pulled my wrists together over my head, held them with one hand, and used the other to hoist my left leg up around his waist. He grinded against me while his teeth tore into my neck. All the protests in my head melted into moans and erotic sighs that I couldn’t suppress, no matter how hard I tried.

My head was spinning and my core was throbbing when he finally released me, only to hang his dressrobes on my coat rack. I rested the back of my head against the wall and closed my eyes.

Firm hands were pulling me away from the wall and turning me around a moment later.

“Show me to your bedroom,” Voldemort murmured, keeping his hands on my shoulders as he pushed me forward.

I obeyed. Once we were inside, he unzipped my dress for the second time that night, tugging it off much more roughly than before—I supposed he no longer felt the need to try and charm me.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he ordered, already unbuttoning his shirt by the time I turned to face him.

“I...could we maybe—”

“Take them off, or they’re getting ripped off. I’ll have you naked in under a minute, either way.”

“Yes, my Lord,” I whispered meekly. I averted my eyes while removing my shoes and undergarments, and looked up to see the Dark Lord as bare as I was. My face warmed at the sight, but my stomach dropped. Though he’d already taken me, he’d been fully clothed—a detail that had made the act feel slightly less intimate. That first encounter had seemed more a power play than a display of lust. While pinned beneath him on the couch, I hadn’t been able to see his taut body or the thick, pulsing erection between his legs.

“See something you like?” he teased, his mouth turned up into a haughty sneer.

I stared at my feet until cold fingers tilted my chin up.

“I said: _do you see something you like?_ Answer me.”

“Y-yes—”

His mouth was on mine once more, his hands cupping my face while he pulled me toward the bed. He released me and sat down, and then pointed to the floor by his feet.

“I pleased you at the party, and now you will return the gesture. Get on your knees.”

Positioning myself before him felt awkward. Though I knew full well what I was expected to do, I’d never imagined engaging in this behavior with _him._ Still, I had no choice. He’d curse me again if I disobeyed. I could admit that I found him physically appealing; but I still wished he’d given me some time to wrap my head around the concept of bedding him, rather than plowing ahead with no regard for my comfort.

Forcing my misgivings to the back of my mind, I reached out and began trailing my fingers up and down his length. The flesh was hot, rigid, and smooth, and the muscle twitched in my hand.

“You see what you do to me?” he breathed.

I looked up at him, not knowing what to say, but feeling slightly less anxious when he stroked my hair. I even leaned my head into his hand and closed my eyes—until his fingers bunched in my hair and pulled my head back in between his splayed thighs.

After a deep breath, I took him into my mouth and began sucking. I moved slowly at first, trying to acclimate to this foreign sensation, but feeling more confident when I heard contented groans. He rubbed the back of my head as his thighs began to shake, and I realized I quite liked the feeling of the tight muscles quivering under my hands—almost as much as I liked the feeling of his organ quivering in my mouth. I found myself stroking his legs and hips while my mouth moved over him, not entirely sure why I was suddenly so determined to please him, but no longer interested in indulging my prior reservations. There was something about the act of giving a man pleasure that made me feel both valued and aroused; and I wondered how the Dark Lord felt right now, knowing how well I could satisfy him.

I dragged my left hand down in between his legs to caress his testicles, eliciting a particularly loud moan. I would have smiled, were I not eagerly sucking his cock. A few minutes later, with my jaw feeling fatigued, I withdrew and let my hand take over. I jerked him hard for a moment, just to see how he would react, and then placed soft kisses all over the muscle. And I could finally smirk in triumph when I snuck a glance upward to see his head fall back while he whispered my name.

Our eyes locked as I opened my mouth once more and slowly dragged my tongue up the underside of his shaft. He shuddered.

“Keep doing that,” he whispered, maintaining eye contact while I repeated the motion several times. He sucked in air through clenched teeth—it appeared that he was struggling to remain in control of his body. He wouldn’t, though; not if I had anything to say about it. He wasn’t the only one who could exert a power play.

When I closed my fingers around the base of his cock, pumping my hand in time with my lips, he came undone. Hot, thick fluid burst into my mouth, which I had no choice but to swallow, with the Dark Lord’s hand pushing my head down. I shuddered at the bitter taste, but managed to finish the job without gagging too much.

I remained on my knees, staring at the carpet and awaiting my next instruction; I was too nervous to do anything else. Once he’d recovered, the Dark Lord reached under my arms and pulled me to my feet.

“A girl this talented and obedient deserves a reward,” he drawled into my neck while pulling me close. I wound my arms around his neck and held on tightly, resting my head against his as he rubbed my back. For all my prior hesitation over his attention, I certainly wanted him now. I had no problem admitting that. When he told me to lie down and spread my legs, I didn’t even hesitate.

He rubbed his open mouth all over my breasts, stopping to kiss and bite the skin occasionally. Though being tied to the couch at Malfoy Manor hadn’t felt too terrible once I’d gotten used to it, I liked that I could now squeeze the Dark Lord’s shoulders and wind my fingers through his hair while he kissed my body. And feeling his bare skin move against mine made me crave his touch all the more.

Though he’d taken his time teasing me at the party, he was now moving even more slowly—perhaps because we were alone in my flat, with no social obligations threatening to limit our time together. His mouth lingered on my nipples, licking and sucking with abandon until pleasure tore through me unexpectedly.

His mouth was pressed firmly in between my legs a moment later. I closed my eyes and relaxed as I savored the delicious sensations, until I remembered the Dark Lord’s earlier assessment, and looked down—it _was_ true that watching him aroused me as much as the feel of him. The urge to look away increased as twinges of uncertainty and self-consciousness rose in waves, but I ignored my insecurity and kept my gaze locked on his.

My fingers twisted in the blankets and I spread my legs wider, feeling the tension coil deep inside. Given my lack of resistance, I anticipated another rush of pleasure—until the stimulation suddenly stopped.

I squeezed my eyes shut and cried out in frustration, while the Dark Lord pried my rigid fingers off the blanket. I tried to grab his hair and pull him closer, but he would not allow it.

“Please—”

“Don’t touch me. Put your arms over your head. I need full access to those gorgeous breasts.”

My whole body warmed at his words, and I even stretched out more as I followed his orders, arching my back as he reached up to grope me. I loved watching his hands and mouth work me up—I couldn’t get enough of the frenzied look on his face. And when the shockwaves finally hit, I could not stop screaming. I forced myself to keep my eyes open, watching the Dark Lord grasp my bucking hips to keep them from moving too much, so he could continue licking and sucking my clitoris. And even after the wave crested, his mouth was still moving quickly, dragging me through three more releases that hit in rapid succession. I squeezed the top of my pillow case, moaning and squealing until he finally pulled back and allowed me a moment’s rest.

When I opened my eyes, he was already sheathed inside my dripping core, thrusting deep and hard. I threw my arms around his back. My inner walls were still pulsing from the oral stimulation, and I could do nothing but surrender to this potent, primal need. My skin was on fire. I couldn’t stop myself from crying out, clinging to the Dark Lord and begging him not to stop. Some distant part of my mind head him whisper _You’re mine,_ but I wasn’t interested in examining the gravity of such words. I could focus on nothing but his warm, hard body moving atop me, his soft lips on my neck, and his pulsing length driving into me, faster and faster until I fell apart once more. He quickly followed suit, and collapsed onto me.

Since my bed wasn’t large enough for us to both lie on our backs, he rolled over onto his side and pulled me against his chest.

“Did you hear what I said?” he murmured in my ear, making me shiver.

“What—when? What did you say?”

“You’re mine.”

I swallowed hard. “And...what does that mean, exactly?”

“It means that you belong to me. Only I can touch you—and I will do so whenever I wish. It also means that we will begin spending ample time together outside of meetings; I will be coming here often. Perhaps twice a week.”

“Oh, wow. That sounds...serious.”

“We _are_ together; yes. As you suspected from my words before we left the Manor.” He kissed my shoulder and stroked my breasts.

“H-how long do you see this going on?”

“Assuming you behave to my satisfaction—” He paused to grip me tighter. “—you will be moving in with me upon the expiration of your lease. I believe that is six months from now?”

I would have bolted upright if he hadn’t been holding me so tightly. His grip strengthened as I tried to squirm away.

“Where are you going, love?”

“I—I’m not _going_ anywhere; I just...I need some space to breathe right now. This is—this is a lot all at once. Couples generally...well, they go out for a while, they maybe sleep together after a few weeks or so, and then they only move in together when they’re both sure that the relationship is headed toward something permanent. It’s—we’ve basically condensed a year or two of dating into three hours.”

“I don’t see the problem. I have always desired you, you have finally admitted to reciprocating my interest, and neither of us fancies the tedious frivolity of courtship. Why wait?”

“Um...to give _me_ some time to adjust to such an arrangement, and see if I actually like it? I’m sorry—I’m not trying to disrespect you; I’m just overwhelmed. This is so much to—”

“Alex, I know you better than you know yourself. This is what’s best for you—and for me, of course. Legilimency is quite useful, you know; I could tell you things about yourself that I already know you won’t be able to acknowledge for another two years. Not without extensive personal growth, that is. And this is something I can help you achieve. Mastery of the mind is the backbone of magical skill, regardless of how often one practices charms and learns spells by rote.

“You have the potential to become the most powerful Dark witch in the world, and I want you by my side as you achieve this position. I have wanted this for a long time; it is not a decision I’ve made cavalierly.”

“I—I’m not sure how I feel about it all. It’s still—”

“It would behoove you to see this as an order.”

All the erotic heat in my body suddenly froze solid. I felt a chill that didn’t seem to come from the air.

“What are you afraid of?” he murmured, worming his hand in between my legs for the umpteenth time.

I tried to keep my thighs together, but he roughly hoisted my right leg over his waist. He slid his hand through all the fluid that had accumulated over the past half hour, and then dipped two fingers inside me. I gasped.

“You’ll have this virtually every night,” he hissed in my ear while pumping his fingers. “What girl doesn’t want to be this deeply desired? Especially you—having grown up so misunderstood, unloved, mistreated...after all of that, your greatest wish is for a man to understand you and care for you, wanting you to remain exactly as you are. And here I am.”

His words alone would likely have sounded attractive, but the mocking bite in his voice betrayed any consolation I might have felt. He may have developed some semblance of respect for me, considering his curiosity about my inner workings—he wouldn’t have spent so much time looking into my mind otherwise—but I knew he still expected me to obey his commands above all else. He didn’t want an equal partnership; he wanted someone to dominate in and out of the bedroom. He wanted a live-in Death Eater he could use to his advantage.

How on Earth could I live like that? Would I like it? I could admit that I’d enjoyed our encounters, but there was more to relationships than sex. And I felt stupid for even _thinking_ that he might be capable of kindness and thoughtful gestures of affection—traits people were supposed to bring to relationships.

Granted, I had never romanticized this man in all the years I’d spent preparing myself for meeting him, but I’d also never considered being in my current position, literally or figuratively. I knew that he was a stone-cold killer who would cut down anyone who opposed him, and I had prided myself on my mental preparations to join him—I had constantly reminded myself of how ruthless he was, and imagined what I might need to say to him in various conversations. But I also had never anticipated his desire for more than my presence at his meeting table and in battle. I’d never imagined him wanting to bed me, or share his home with me in some twisted version of a relationship. I hadn’t thought to prepare myself for something like this.

He was correct that I wanted a partner who respected me—but I’d hoped that such a venture would come without a caveat; his interest in me would likely turn to homicidal rage if I defied him. Could I possibly learn to navigate such a dynamic, and still feel fulfilled?

It appeared that, like all the other events that had transpired this evening, I didn’t have a choice.

As the Dark Lord’s fingers curled inside me and his teeth sank into my neck, I could only hope that I would one day learn to accept the cards I’d been dealt. Having acquired some form of admiration from this man was not something to scoff at.

And he was certainly talented in the bedroom. That was a plus. My body quaked in his hands once more as he dragged his fingers up to my clitoris and rubbed furiously. I was amazed that I even had the energy to climax again, given the extent of our activities.

The Dark Lord allowed me a moment to recover before he spoke. “I’ll ask you again, Alex: what are you afraid of?”

“I’m worried that you’ll torture or kill me if I make you angry.”

“So don’t make me angry. Keep behaving as beautifully as you’ve always done, and you’ll have nothing to worry about. You caught my attention for a reason. I’d never even considered having a partner until I noticed you. You should feel honored. Stop worrying and be proud of your accomplishment.”

I tried to relax, despite the sudden tension in my stomach, but figured it was just the nerves; they would have to run their course before I could settle down for the night. I said nothing as the Dark Lord waved his wand to clean us, choosing to remain in bed while he dressed.

“Drink this,” he instructed, handing me a small stoppered vial. “It’s a contraceptive.”

I sat up and accepted the potion. “When did you get it?” I asked after drinking it down.

“I brewed it yesterday, and carried it in my robes all night.”

I would have spat out the liquid, had I not already swallowed it. Voldemort chuckled at my dumbfouded expression.

“You really think I hadn’t planned for this? I knew I’d get you alone at some point this evening; it was only a matter of waiting for the perfect moment. I don’t do anything on a whim.”

“I—I can see that.” I shakily returned the empty vial to its maniacal owner, who bent down and kissed my cheek.

“I’ll be back on Friday night for dinner,” he said. “I assume you cook?”

“I do.”

He smirked. “That’s not a phrase I’d throw around lightly, if I were you.”

“W- _what?!”_

“It’s only a joke, sweetheart. Relax.”

He placed a scorching kiss on my lips, and then gripped my shoulder to coax me back into lying down. After a few more kisses, he bade me good night and Disapparated.

I stared up at the ceiling for a while, turning over these bizarre events in my head and trying to make sense of everything. Seeing as it was after one o’clock, I didn’t see any productive analysis happening, and so I resolved to shelve these thoughts until the morning.

It was only when I was half asleep that the funny feeling in my stomach suddenly made sense. When Voldemort had told me not to worry about the implications of being his partner, he’d told me he had never desired a relationship before he’d realized that he wanted me. _Before I noticed you,_ he’d said. That phrase had turned my stomach, and I suddenly knew why: the word “notice” didn’t accurately describe our first meeting, when I had presented myself to him as a potential Death Eater—no one else had been in the room with him, except Margo. Therefore, he would only have used that word _if he had known of my existence previously._

My stomach clenched and I sat up in bed, clutching the blanket around my body. Though alone in my bedroom, I suddenly felt exposed—especially with the thought of Voldemort having known about me before I’d felt ready to meet him. What had he seen? How long had he known who I was? When on Earth had we been in the same place, and how had I not realized he was there? What had his impression been of me?

I certainly had some questions to ask him on Friday.


	19. Alternate Beginning 5 | Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After deciding to become a Death Eater upon leaving Hogwarts, Alex takes a leap of faith by moving in with a family of Voldemort’s supporters—unsavory individuals who are using her as much as she is using them. She mostly keeps to herself, trying to avoid attracting unwanted attention the way she did in school. The problem is, attention from her hosts is not the attention she should be worried about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My best friend and Sister in Smut Atypical16 made me write this. I insisted that four alternate beginnings were QUITE enough; but she said otherwise, after I told her the premise of this one when I got the idea. And she would not stop pestering me until I agreed to write it. Everyone applaud her persuasive skills—it takes a lot to convince me! Eight chapters of lunacy up ahead.... XD

My seventh year at Hogwarts was underway. My childhood was almost over. I would likely pass my Apparition test in two days. And so, after years of Dark Arts research and learning about prominent Death Eaters, I decided that it was time for a riskier venture than sneaking into the Restricted Section: initiating contact with a family of Voldemort’s supporters. The goal was to impress them enough that they would contact their Lord on my behalf and allow me an opportunity to make a case for myself. I saw no other way to join the man’s ranks; I either actively presented myself to his followers, or passively hung around areas where Dark wizards congregated and hope to meet like-minded individuals that way. And I was never one for passivity.

Picking a family was tricky. Many of these upper-crust Purebloods were wealthy and close-knit; there was no telling how they would react to an outsider like me. Sure, I was also a Pureblood, but I was neither fanatical nor wealthy. I would have to rely on my intelligence and persuasiveness to guide me through this process.

After poring over yet another book on these callous individuals, I decided that the best family to contact was the Blacks—or, as they referred to themselves, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. They stuck out to me for two reasons: one, they were Voldemort’s longest-serving, multi-generational supporters; and two, they had lost a member to the Order of the Phoenix several years ago. Sirius Black had run away to stay with his friends, the late James and Lily Potter, upon completing his education, and his mother Walburga had promptly wiped him from the family tree. Mother and son were both long dead, but Sirius’s cousin Bellatrix was alive and well. As was her husband Rodolphus Lestrange. Bellatrix and her sister Narcissa Malfoy were the last living members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

If I could convince this family that I was a suitable replacement for Sirius, and therefore a means for them to curry more favor with Voldemort, I might have a shot at joining him. They would likely never grow to care for me, but love and affection were not my goals. I just needed a foot in the door.

My hand quivered as I dipped my quill into the ink bottle.

_Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange,_

_I am a seventh-year Pureblood Slytherin girl. We don’t know each other, but we might be able to help each other—I have been drawn to the Dark Arts since I was ten, and I have been researching the discipline in secret for three years. In addition to the Dark Arts themselves, I have also read about prominent Death Eater families, and always found information on you and yours. What stuck out to me the most was the betrayal of your cousin Sirius, who I believe got what was coming to him when he joined the Order of the Phoenix. I know I am not of your blood, but we seem to have a similar situation: you ousted a relative for joining the opposing side, and my family would oust me if they knew I wanted to join yours. Perhaps we could work out a mutually beneficial arrangement._

_I want to become a Death Eater. I cannot return to my oppressive family when my schooling is over, and so I have nowhere else to turn. I am wondering if you would be willing to meet with me in Knockturn Alley and offer some guidance. I am fiercely independent and will begin looking for work after the new year, so any assistance I may require would be temporary._

_If you would rather tell me to sod off, I will not be offended; but I do hope you will give me a chance to state my case. Please let me know either way. If you do decide to meet me, we can come up with a code phrase for me to use so you will know who I am. I’ve also placed a tracking charm on this envelope, and enclosed a blank piece of parchment, so that you can write back without knowing my name. I look forward to hearing from you._

My heart raced the more I wrote, and I had to close my eyes and slow my breathing by the time I’d finished composing the letter. Half of me thought I was batshit crazy for even writing the missive, much less sending it with a bloody tracking charm; but the other half was cheering loudly and doing backflips inside my head.

My legs shook as I sealed the envelope and walked to the owlery. So many times I contemplated burning the letter and pretending nothing had happened, especially since the Ministry was intercepting more owls these days, but I had come too far to throw it all away. I had to at least try. A sheen of sweat broke out along my hairline as I watched the owl fly away.

* * *

Time slowed to a crawl. I felt like I was existing outside of myself, aware of my robotic movements but not processing what was happening around me. Being antisocial really was a blessing, as I could slip away from my peers outside of the classroom and no one would question my behavior. Everyone knew by now that when I wanted to be left alone, I _really_ wanted to be left alone. I became even more reclusive than normal, my face in a perpetual scowl until after the Saturday afternoon Apparition test, which I miraculously passed with distinction—I’d known I wouldn’t fail; but I also hadn’t expected such high marks, given my anxiety. My confidence thus received a much-needed boost that day.

The following morning at breakfast, a single envelope dropped into my lap. My parents had written to me three days earlier, so I knew they wouldn’t be contacting me again so soon. No one else ever corresponded with me, and so I didn’t even have to open the envelope to know who the sender was—the unfamiliar owl, the unfamiliar handwriting, and the sudden swell of anxious excitement in my stomach were a dead giveaway. I finished my breakfast in a hurry and powerwalked back to my dorm, relieved that it was Sunday and I didn’t have to go to class. I could spend all morning in my dorm if I chose.

Flopping onto my bed, I tore open the envelope with trembling hands.

_Anonymous Slytherin girl,_

_Your letter certainly took us by surprise, though I’ll concede that you have us intrigued. The Dark Lord is always seeking fresh blood, especially in those as determined as you appear to be. We will meet you at the pub next to Borgin and Burkes this Saturday afternoon at 3:00. Assuming you are serious in your convictions, approach our table and tell us the name of the spell that causes deep lacerations in a person’s skin. Anyone well-read in the Dark Arts will know the answer._

_Until this Saturday,_  
_Bellatrix Lestrange_

I squealed. I couldn’t help it. No one else was in the dorm, anyway, so there was no point in hiding my excitement.

After I got the surge of energy out of my system, I stashed my letter at the bottom of my trunk and began rehearsing what I would say to the Lestranges. I still had a week until our date, but I could never be too prepared.

* * *

My friends all went to Hogsmeade on Saturday, so I was able to leave the castle with no fanfare. I was a bit nervous about being spotted, because I had to walk to Hogsmeade myself in order to Disapparate, but I kept my head low and did not linger anywhere along the way. No one bothered me.

Knockturn Alley was a bit more cramped than I was expecting, especially with the Apparition point being so close to the entrance to Diagon Alley. I had to take a moment to get my bearings and figure out which way to turn. Weaving my way through all the shady characters on the street was a challenge—I was a lot younger than the others, most of whom were men. I caught a few lewd stares and unsavory comments as I navigated through the crowd, determined to find the pub without having to ask for directions. The less attention I garnered, the better.

After a few minutes of searching, I located Borgin and Burkes and the pub next door. I glanced around once more, making sure no one was looking at me, and slipped inside.

The room was dark and dreary. Exactly the kind of pub I’d expect to see in Knockturn Alley. A few people looked up upon hearing the door open, but no one seemed to care who was coming and going. I scanned the room and soon located the Lestranges in a corner booth. My heart beat faster.

Bellatrix was clearly the more powerful of the two. I could tell just by looking at her. Though her stint in Azkaban had taken its toll, she was still incredibly beautiful and held herself like a queen. Rodolphus sat next to her, looking as regal as his wife but also subtly looking to her for direction. They sipped their drinks in silence.

I had an impression to make.

Approaching the table, I squared my shoulders and took a slow, deep breath. The couple looked up as I made my way to the back of the room, but I didn’t hold constant eye contact with them until I was about a foot away; I wanted to appear neither meek nor confrontational. Striking a balance was key.

“Sectumsempra.”

“Well, well, well,” Bellatrix drawled, glancing at her husband and then smirking up at me. “Look what we have here.”

I offered her a small smile.

“You are quite ambitious, young lady. I’ll give you that.”

“I’m not a Slytherin for nothing.”

“Indeed,” Rodolphus chuckled. “Have a seat.”

I pulled out one of the chairs opposite the Lestranges and sat down.

Bellatrix clasped her hands on the tabletop and leaned in toward me. “Start with your name.”

“My name is Alex Halaway. I’m from America, but I attend Hogwarts because my mother did. She was born in England and moved to America to marry my father—and also to escape the political turbulence over here during the Dark Lord’s first rise. My parents are trying to pressure my sister and me to transfer to Ilvermorny because of how strong the Dark Lord is getting, but I won’t go back. I belong here.”

The couple exchanged glances.

“Quite a tale, Miss Halaway,” Bellatrix replied. “And what is this mutually beneficial arrangement you spoke about in your letter? Were you asking us to house you after you graduate? That is quite an audacious request of someone you don’t know.”

I swallowed hard. “Well—as I said, I’ll be looking for work after the holidays, but I don’t know how long it’ll take me to find a job. Some places may accept a part-time employee, or they might only want full-time workers. And I’m not sure how long it’ll take me to save up enough money for a deposit on a flat.”

“And how is this a mutually beneficial arrangement?” Rodolphus pressed. “Why should we help you?”

“You don’t _have_ to help me; but I figured that presenting the Dark Lord with a new recruit might make him even more impressed with you—more impressed than he already seems to be, from what I’ve read.”

“Merlin, you _sound_ like him.”

“I—what?”

Bellatrix chuckled, but I couldn’t tell if she did so in amusement or annoyance.

“You’re a little smooth-talker, aren’t you? D’you make a habit of telling people everything they want to hear, so they’ll give you what you ask for?”

I shrugged and smiled wanly. “I’m not expecting love or emotional support or anything like that; just a foothold. I figured that the worst you could say is no. If you want nothing to do with me, I’ll still go ahead with my plan to find work when term resumes, and I’ll hopefully be able to save enough money for a flat before the summer. I figure I’m bound to meet some more Death Eaters over time, who could put me in contact with your leader. I just figured you’d like the honor more than anyone, since I know how much pride you take in your loyalty to him...and how much your family felt disgraced after what Sirius did.”

The Lestranges looked at each other again, appearing to gauge each other’s thoughts before continuing the discussion.

“I don’t expect you to decide right now; that would be crazy. We just met. Would you be amenable to meeting up a few times to, well...suss each other out?”

“That can probably be arranged,” Rodolphus replied. “In the meantime, tell us more about your background. What makes you want to be a Death Eater?”

I had come fully prepared for such questions, and spouted off all the Pureblood mania that I knew the Lestranges believed in. They had no business knowing that I didn’t give a rat’s ass about who was shagging whom; I just wanted a place to feel safe being myself without repercussions. And if that meant having Voldemort train me to be a professional killing machine, then I’d do that. I certainly didn’t have to fake my bloodlust around the Lestranges. I even made them chuckle a few times.

I told them that I wouldn’t care if they tried to take credit for making me a Death Eater, even though I had initiated contact on my own—the goal was to get where I wanted to be in Wizarding society; it mattered not how I achieved that position.

The rest of the conversation was surprisingly productive, though the Lestranges were still suspicious of my motives. Be that as it may, they agreed to meet with me again in a few weeks.

* * *

I continued corresponding with the Lestranges, through letters with coded language as well as discussions in Knockturn Alley. They never appeared completely comfortable with me, but I wooed them enough that they agreed to house me upon my graduation—I secured a weekend job at the end of March, but my savings would not garner me enough money for the flats I’d been looking to rent. Though deflated in that regard, I was thankful that I at least had a place to stay in England after leaving Hogwarts.

We began discussing living arrangements in late May. The Lestranges revealed that they resided in two homes: one house a few miles away from Malfoy Manor, and another in Muggle London. Sirius and his brother had grown up in that house, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and Bellatrix had reclaimed it after her cousin’s death several years ago.

They decided to set me up at Grimmauld Place, as I would be closer to my job at the apothecary and I wouldn’t be in the Lestranges’ way all the time; they usually spent the weekends there. As long as I contributed to the household—buying my own food, keeping to myself when I wasn’t wanted in a conversation, and cleaning up after myself if the elf was being a pain—then I would be welcome to remain at Grimmauld Place until I could put down a deposit on a flat, whether to rent or to buy.

The more I revealed about my post-Hogwarts plans, allowing me to begin to bond with Bellatrix, it became clear that my moving in with them would be the best decision for all of us. We would all be using each other to some degree: they would present me to Voldemort as a new recruit, and I would rely on them for housing until I could get my footing. We had a similar enough mindset that none of us saw any drama on the horizon.

As standoffish as she’d been initially, Bellatrix began to subtly soften her attitude around me to the point that I almost felt like I was talking to a mentor. I secretly hoped that we could become friendly one day—we had a lot in common and I’d never had anyone likeminded to turn to in troubling times, so I supposed it was only natural that I would gravitate toward her. I didn’t expect us to truly become close for a while, but I could be patient. I’d come this far already in my quest to join Dark Wizarding society. It appeared that life could only get better.

At least, that’s what I assumed before I graduated.


	20. Alternate Beginning 5 | Chapter 2

I moved into Grimmauld Place with little fuss. Though a mark of my success, and what should have been cause for celebration, it was but a small comfort, overshadowed by the drama at my Hogwarts graduation ceremony.

It had started not long after I’d greeted my parents that morning. Though I acted normal, they could tell that something was amiss—they kept asking me if I was all right and if they had reason to be worried. I assured them that all was well each time they asked, but they were not convinced. And so my whole family sat in a tight knot of tension throughout the entire event.

Everyone mingled for a while after the ceremony finished, with teachers offering well wishes and students hugging their friends goodbye as they promised to keep in touch. I thought it silly that they were so emotional over something as minor as not seeing their friends every damn day, but they also hadn’t grown up ostracized and misunderstood. They’d never had to think about emotionally fending for themselves at the age of ten. I, on the other hand, already possessed coping skills that my peers never needed to cultivate. I fought the urge to roll my eyes each time I saw students crying as they embraced—really, for all the times my parents had called me weak and immature, this spectacle seemed like quite the role reversal. It took a lot of self-control to not point this out to my parents in a snobby tone.

I kept my big news to myself for as long as possible. This only increased the tension rising up from my stomach into my chest, until I had to force myself to breathe deeply. And quietly. My parents would have bombarded me with more questions if they’d noticed me audibly trying to center myself. Luckily for me, my parents wanted to meet all my teachers, and so they were more focused on finding everyone instead of criticizing my body language. My sister and I dutifully followed behind our parents as we all moved from one conversation to another.

Professor Slughorn had just turned away from us when my mother said, “All right, let’s head out. I think we’ve said goodbye to everyone. Alex, is there anyone else you want to see before we leave?”

“I’m not coming with you.”

“I _beg_ your pardon?!”

“I’m not coming with you,” I repeated, my heart hammering in my chest. “I’m staying in England.”

“Uhh...and where do you propose to live?! You’re joking, right? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m not joking. I got a job in March and I already put down a deposit on a flat. I move in tonight.”

“And _when_ were you planning on telling us?!” my father demanded, his enraged voice causing a few heads to turn. (But I was the one who didn’t know how to conduct myself in public.)

“I’m telling you now.”

My father looked like he was ready to hit me, but thought better of it. “Where is this job?” he demanded.

“I’m not telling you. You’ll follow me there and harass me.”

“How _dare_ you speak to m—”

“You know, you told me for years that you didn’t trust me to be mature enough to function without you; and now that I AM, you’re mad? Are you for real? Getting a job and moving out is a fucking accomplishment, not something to get angry about!”

“Watch your language!” my mother snapped. “And stop raising your voice. You—” Scoffing loudly, she grabbed my arm and began marching me toward the exit.

“OW! Hey, let go of me! What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I’m not a five-year-old throwing a tantrum in a restaurant. Get off!!”

“If you don’t want to be treated like a five-year-old, then stop acting like one! Stop swearing and shouting and making such a bloody _scene!”_ She let go of my arm, but still appraised me like a boisterous child with no concept of Inside Voice.

“ _I’m_ making a scene? Then what the hell are _you_ doing, dragging me through—”

“What is going on here?” interrupted Professor McGonagall, who was walking quickly toward my distressed family. She looked at me, and then my mother. “Miss—Mrs. Halaway, is everything all right?”

“No, it most certainly is _not_ all right!” my mother barked.

“Alex fancies herself ready to live on her own, and she apparently got a job and a flat without telling us!” my father added, on the cusp of shouting. “ _I’m not going with you!_ she just announced, as if we’d only shrug and say, _Oh, okay! Enjoy adulthood!_ What the hell are we supposed to do?! She’s our _child!_ You don’t disown your family like it’s no big deal! And anyway, she’s not ready for such a responsibility yet! Are we supposed to keep checking in on her, waiting for the other shoe to drop? I don’t trust her not to lose her job when her attitude gets the better of her.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but a gentle hand on my shoulder stilled my voice. I turned my head to see McGonagall looking at me with concern.

Though normally wary of me, McGonagall appeared conflicted on whose side to take. Given her distaste for my presence and my distaste for being touched, I found the gesture oddly comforting.

“Is this true, Miss Halaway?” she asked calmly.

“Yes, Professor. I’ve been working weekends since mid-March and searching for flats in my downtime. I’ve already signed the employer contract and my lease. I move in tonight. My job turns full-time on Monday.”

The old woman’s shoulders relaxed as she sighed. Removing her hand from my person, she raised her arms a bit to signal that my parents should calm down. “I understand your concern; truly, I do. I’ve seen some of the scrapes she’s gotten into over the years. But your daughter is an adult and legally, you cannot prevent her from staying here. If you refuse to leave Hogwarts, I’m afraid I will have to escort you off the grounds.”

“You can’t be serious,” my mother insisted. “You cannot expect us to just... _drop_ her and trust her to fend for herself, after all she’s been through and all the mistakes she’s m—”

“She also cannot withdraw from an employment contract, Mrs. Halaway. You know as well as I do that such an act could make it even more difficult for her to find work later on. We all want your daughter to be independent, and I’m afraid that you would be further delaying her by—”

“But she’s not ready to—”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW?!” I bellowed, no longer caring about calling attention to myself. “How do you KNOW I’m not ready? You’ve never given me a chance to show you that I AM ready for anything; you just assume I CAN’T, and then stop me from even SHOWING you that I can! You don’t even let me TRY! Do you not WANT me to be independent? Damn it, you should be HAPPY AND PROUD that I’ve defied the odds! Why the hell are you still talking about me like a helpless toddler who can’t do anything right?!”

“Miss Halaway!” exclaimed Professor Slughorn, who had appeared by his colleague. “Pardon me for interrupting, Minerva, but what has happened here?”

McGonagall filled in Slughorn on the argument. My parents looked at him like they were hoping for him to take their side, and I couldn’t help but feel smug when he agreed with McGonagall instead. My lips began turning upward, even though I tried so hard to keep them still.

“You wipe that obnoxious smirk off your face, young lady!” my mother scolded. “You wonder why we worry about your behavior? Just _look_ at you! We’re upset and you’re bloody _enjoying_ yourself! You think everything is a game? That the real world is just like Hogwarts? Well, I can assure you that you’re about to have a rude awakening when you get an attitude with your new boss and start throwing a tantrum in front of all the clients, the way you are now!”

“I would _never_ throw a tantrum at work! What the f—”

“Mrs. Halaway, please try to calm down,” McGonagall interjected, stepping in a bit closer to my parents. “Continuing this argument is only exacerbating everyone’s stress, and I’m afraid I must ask you to leave now. Horace and I will escort you out if you don’t—”

“Fine! We’ll leave. But we will not be marched out like bloody criminals!” my mother replied, before turning back to me and lowering her voice. “You’d better be careful, Alex. I have no idea how you plan on transitioning so quickly from school to the real world, but I hope to Merlin you figure it out soon, or you will not last. And if you can’t handle it and need to return home, which I’m sure you will, we will not make your life easy. You will contribute to the household and find work as quickly as you can, or—”

“I _am_ home.”

My mother started a bit, not expecting such a response.

“Your home was never mine,” I added, making sure to look directly at her and my father while I spoke my truth. “I never belonged with you, and we all know it. My staying in England is best for all of us. Now, go back to America and celebrate having your problem child off your hands. I won’t _ever_ need your help; I can promise you that, so don’t tiptoe around, bracing yourself for the worst. There is none. I’ll take it from here. I am more capable than you’ll ever know, and I always have been; you just didn’t want to see it because you wanted to feel needed.”

My parents’ eyes were now brimming with tears.

“You’d better watch yourself,” my mother croaked. “If you really think you’re ready to live as an adult, you’re going to have to learn some tough lessons on your own.”

My sister, who had been characteristically silent during this whole tirade, granted me a half-assed wave before following my parents. I did not return the gesture. I watched them go, not wanting to turn around until I was sure that they had left the castle grounds.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I told the two bewildered professors. “I’ll be out of your hair shortly; I just have to pack up the rest of my things and then I’ll leave.”

“Good—best of luck to you,” McGonagall said softly, touching my shoulder once more before leading Slughorn away from the scene. Perhaps she had come to respect me after all—not that it mattered now. My schooling was over. I would never see the professor again.

I shook my head and marched back toward the castle.

* * *

My eyes welled up as I returned to the Slytherin dungeons for the last time, walking through the girls’ dormitory to make sure I hadn’t left any of my possessions lying around. As much as I was relieved to finally be free of my parents’ clutches, I _had_ hoped for a peaceful farewell—and a happy graduation ceremony. I’d never have a chance to experience this day again. My Hogwarts graduation was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, and my parents had ruined it with their refusal to take me seriously. They couldn’t even congratulate me or feel the slightest hint of pride, all because I had put my stake in the ground without running it by them first.

I had no idea if or when I’d ever see my relatives again, and so some small part of me had hoped for this day to bring me closure and peace as we said our farewells. But as always, when it came to my family, I was sorely disappointed. I didn’t belong with them. I knew I had made the right call by standing my ground—and omitting the real reason I was choosing to stay in England. My secret ambitions were none of their business.

After drying my eyes, I closed my trunk and wheeled it out of the dormitory, smiling a bit as I realized that I was, for the first time, truly free. I was moving about on my own terms without needing a “real” adult to breathe down my neck and guide my every move, preventing me from taking risks. I was entering a new chapter of my life, in a story that I could write all on my own.

Granted, I was still nervous about my future, but I no longer felt tied down to a life path that did not serve me. Though I was moving in with virtual strangers with very little idea of what to expect, I had a solid grasp of the world’s cruelty and so I had developed a thicker skin than most people my age. Instead of bawling at the thought of no longer seeing my friends in class every day, like many of my classmates were, I was calmly making my way out of the school and down to Hogsmeade, where I would Disapparate quietly and leave my past behind with no hesitation. I congratulated myself, since no one else would.

A weight had lifted, but another had settled in its place. I could only hope that one day, my shoulders would be unburdened.


	21. Alternate Beginning 5 | Chapter 3

Bellatrix greeted me at the door of 12 Grimmauld Place, a small smile softening her sharp facial features.

“Evening, Alex. Come in.”

“Hi, thank you.”

“Kreacher!!”

“What creature—”A small, miserable-looking being appeared in the hallway. “Yes, Mistress,” it mumbled.

“This is Alex Halaway,” Bellatrix replied. “She’s staying with us for a while. Bring her trunk upstairs and put it in Sirius’s old bedroom.”

“Yes, Mistress. Kreacher lives to serve the Noble and most Ancient H—”

“Stop sucking up, you stupid moron. Follow my orders and get out of my sight.”

My eyes narrowed. “What was _that?”_

“Kreacher is our house elf. He’s been serving the Black family for generations. He’s not the most amicable of elves, but he does his job.”

“Oh! Wow...okay.”

“You’ve never seen a house elf before, have you.” There was a hint of disdain in her voice.

“No; my family’s not wealthy.”

“Obviously. Now, go upstairs and get yourself situated. We’re going to have a little conference when you’re done.”

“Is—is everything okay?”

“It will be, if you follow the rules.”

* * *

There was a lot of tension as we all adjusted to my presence in the house. The Lestranges were mostly cordial, but they never let me forget that I wasn’t truly part of their family. I was there because they could potentially benefit from my desire to join Voldemort, and we all knew it. I hadn’t expected a warm welcome, as if from an infertile family who had just adopted a child, but I still hoped that our dynamic would soften over time as we got used to each other. We had similar views and goals, anyway.

Part of my adjustment period was easy—I followed their house rules, which they communicated clearly and so there was no room for misinterpretation. I had no problem being tidy, paying for my own food and clothing, and staying out of the way when husband and wife were having a private conversation. It was a bit like Hogwarts, where I had grown adept at assessing when I was wanted in a group and when I wasn’t. This skill pleased my hosts.

The Lestranges also had a sizable library, which they allowed me to peruse at my leisure as long as I kept everything in its proper place. I spent most of my free time there, whether the Lestranges were home or not. Since they had many Dark Arts books, I was finally able to study out in the open without fear of consequences. It was so refreshing to simply sit down on a chair with a book open, no matter the time of day or who was nearby, and read to my heart’s content. I still didn’t feel comfortable practicing anything I was reading about—there wasn’t a lot of open space, and I didn’t want to risk breaking anything if a spell went wrong. At least the process of researching was no longer a source of stress.

Other areas of our home life were not such a cakewalk, however. It was not every day that a middle-class girl moved in with a wealthy family, having no knowledge of upper-crust social norms—including how to act around a house elf. Bellatrix looked at me like I was daft one afternoon when Kreacher was blocking my path out of the dining room and I said, “Excuse me.”

“You can just kick him, silly girl,” she jeered as Rodolphus snickered. “You know, for someone who wants to be a Death Eater, you seem a bit too timid sometimes. Are you quite sure you’re up to the task?”

My face and neck burned in rage. How the fuck was I supposed to know that I could kick an occupant of my new house, and _not_ be seen as a disrespectful brat? Merlin, I really couldn’t win sometimes.

“Yes, I’m sure that I don’t go around kicking the residents of the house I live in—really, how was I supposed to know that hurting him was acceptable? I figured you’d throw me out if I did something like that.”

My hosts only laughed harder. “Good gracious, you’re a riot!” Rodolphus chimed in. “You see the way we order him around, and yet you’re hesitant to just move him out of your way? You’re a Pureblood witch looking to attain a position in high society. Bloody _act_ like it.”

That they were less angry and more amused only humiliated me further. I turned on my heel and went upstairs to my bedroom, careful not to slam the door—though it was tempting. Actually, I wanted to burn the whole fucking house down.

It really seemed that life mocked me sometimes. I had grown up being told I was a human terror, too violent and cruel to be trusted to function properly, and so I’d spent years honing my mimicking skills in order to appease the masses. And now, I was finally living with like-minded individuals...who thought I was too soft. A phony. Not dark enough to be taken seriously. The unfairness made me want to scream and break everything in sight. But of course that would only make me look even less mature. I could do nothing but grit my teeth and push through my tumult, taking it a day at a time.

It wasn’t like I was afraid of expressing my darkness outwardly in front of the Lestranges, or trying to look tougher than I really was; it was that I simply lacked experience in such an environment. I wasn’t sure how to conduct myself—I had never behaved authentically before. Realizing that I had to actually learn how to act like myself was a sobering discovery.

Though I was technically an adult, my hosts were more authority figures than equals because they were several years older and more powerful. They were the reason I had a roof over my head; I couldn’t talk back to them or otherwise treat them like I thought them beneath me. And as much as the interaction with Kreacher had enraged me, I realized that looking soft had been safer than going too far in indulging my violent cravings without knowing my limits...and then being tossed out on the street. At least I had _one_ clear marker now.

As such, maybe I’d make a habit of kicking the house elf on the regular, just for the fuck of it.

* * *

The learning curve was steep. Adjusting my behavior didn’t only happen with the Lestranges alone: it extended to their social life. My hosts mingled with all of the upper-crust Pureblood families, especially the Malfoys, and they occasionally allowed me to join them. I had read about Bellatrix’s sister Narcissa and her husband Lucius Malfoy, parents of the disgraced Draco who disappeared in 1999. Mentioning the young man was, of course, strictly off-limits. Though that rule was easy enough to follow, I still grappled with some serious culture shock.

The Malfoys reacted to me like I was a strange houseguest; not entirely unwanted, but not necessarily desired in the conversation either. They wouldn’t have cared if I’d gotten up and left the room without a word. Still, they understood why I was living with the Lestranges and so they treated me with some degree of respect—though I could tell that they thought our living arrangements were bizarre. It was unheard of for an elite Pureblood family to house someone like me.

Even though I never said _excuse me_ to the house elf again, I suppose my middle-class upbringing was somehow visible in the way I carried myself, because it felt like the Malfoys and their friends were subtly looking down on me. When they discussed certain subjects to which I could not relate—expensive purchases, lavish parties, and the like—I always fell silent. I thought their priorities were a bit skewed, but I would never dare say so. I was grateful to simply be included, even if the interactions were a little awkward.

They did ask me a bit about myself, and seemed relatively satisfied, but I wasn’t sure I’d truly be considered one of them until I finally bore the tattoo they all shared. I hoped that would happen sooner rather than later. The Lestranges told me that they’d let me know when they deemed me ready to meet Voldemort, and that day had not yet come.

The Lestranges’ friends appeared hesitant to discuss Death Eater meetings in front of me, even knowing that I would likely join their table. I told them I wouldn’t judge or repeat anything they spoke about, but they were still wary. I could hardly blame them, though—with such a powerful man giving them orders, they clearly didn’t want to risk angering him by running their mouths to the wrong person. I resolved to be on my best behavior at all times, and remain optimistic that the tide would turn in my favor eventually.

* * *

As the weeks passed, my hosts began treating me a little better. Rodolphus still wasn’t crazy about me, but he began to at least develop some respect for me after months of witnessing my self-sufficiency and understanding of his house rules. He’d never initiate a conversation with me just for the sake of it, but he also wouldn’t turn away or regard me with annoyance if I spoke first. He would engage with me quietly, with little emotion, until the conversation ran dry and one of us excused ourselves from the room.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, was beginning to do a surprising turnaround: she started warming up to me. It began with small things, like making a joke about something stupid Kreacher had done, or the two of us talking about random subjects and then discovering that we had certain traits in common. We both hated stupidity, laziness, and fake devotion—she was as loyal to the Dark Lord as anyone, and sometimes came home seething from a Death Eater gathering in which Voldemort had tortured yet another traitor who had been pretending to be trustworthy. I was flattered the first time she burst into the parlor, where I’d been reading a book, and began venting about the idiocy of some weak links in the ranks. Though I didn’t have much to offer in comfort, it was eye-opening to realize that Bellatrix was finally letting her guard down around me, even for something relatively impersonal.

For all my mishaps thus far, I must have been doing _something_ right.

I decided to check in on her the day after her rant, to show that I wasn’t _only_ looking to her as an intermediary source of shelter. Neither of us were the warmest of individuals, but I was starting to see her as a possible friend and I was curious to find out if she felt the same.

“How ya doing?” I asked, poking my head into the dining room when I saw her sitting there long after the meal had finished. Rodolphus had already retired and Kreacher had finished clearing the plates. Bellatrix was resting her forehead on her palms, with her shoulders slumped.

“All right, I guess,” she mumbled.

“Do you...want to talk about it?” I asked.

No response.

“I won’t be offended if you don’t want to talk to me; I’ll leave. Maybe Rodolphus should—”

“No, no, it’s all right.”

Trying not to grin triumphantly, I slowly eased myself into the chair next to hers. “So, what’s up?”

“I’m just—I worry about the Dark Lord sometimes.”

“Why? Is he sick or something? Working too hard?”

“No, no; nothing like that. It’s that there always seems to be a traitor lurking about, and sometimes it takes him a while to see who it is...and that person ends up doing a lot of damage before the Dark Lord realizes what’s happened. I think we need a more rigorous process of weeding out the weak ones. Anyone can kill for show, but actually doing in the work required of a Death Eater—not everyone can handle that. I’ve tried talking to him about this, but he dismisses me as being overly paranoid. I worry that one day a traitor will reveal too much to the opposition and then....”

I waited for a moment, not wanting to interrupt her if she had more to say, but she remained silent.

“He’s gotten a lot more powerful in the past few years, hasn’t he?”

“Oh, for sure. He’s not nearly as vulnerable as he once was, when we had a double agent who’d been working for Dumbledore the whole bloody time, but I never forgot that and I’m just so—I worry about him, is all. I warned him about Snape for years and he always waved me off. He even got angry with me after he’d discovered Snape’s loyalties and killed him for it...he was so pissy with me just because I was _thinking_ ‘I told you so.’ I have so much respect for his cause, and everything he’s accomplished, and I’d hate to see—”

“You can’t think like that,” I insisted. “Look: I’ll be the first to admit that I have a hard time _not_ assuming the worst in everyone, so I don’t hold it against you for being wary of other people—including me.”

She gave me a small smile.

“But constantly catastrophizing will do nothing but work yourself into a state. It sounds like dealing with traitors has been a constant problem for him, but that hasn’t stopped him from getting what he wants; these idiots are just small stumbling blocks. I’m sure he has tons of contingency plans in case of an emergency, anyway, and you’re not exactly powerless yourself. You’re one of the longest-serving Death Eaters for a reason, right?”

Her smile widened. “He’s told me a few times that I’m his favorite.”

“Aww, see? I’m sure he takes your concerns seriously; it might be that there’s just...not as much of a problem as you think there is. I’ve had that happen sometimes.”

“How so? You’re not a Death Eater yet; you don’t understand the pressure.”

“True, but I’ve gotten into a fair amount of scrapes and often worried for nothing. It’s really not worth it. You can prepare as best you can, which I’m sure you do, and then everything else is just a matter of playing it by ear. I’m not trying to downplay your concerns or anything; I just don’t want to see you get all stressed out for no reason. You won’t be at your best in a battle if your nerves are frayed.”

She patted my arm and looked at me with a hint of fondness. “You’re—you’re a good girl. You’re loyal. I like that.”

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Glancing my way, she chuckled a little bit. And so did I.

In that moment, we understood each other. I could tell from the look in her eyes that she saw something in me that made her feel comfortable, and a warm glow of pride swelled in my belly. I told myself to play it cool; to wait and see if she wanted to talk more, but then my mouth was moving again before I could stop it. I was too excited.

I told her about some of the scrapes I’d gotten into at Hogwarts, as well as near-missesover which I’d worked myself up for nothing, and then felt silly afterwards. Apparently, she had a few similar stories of her own. Though she’d not been nearly as paranoid as I was when she was my age, we still ended up swapping Hogwarts stories for over an hour. She also gave me some advice about how to deal with upsets that may arise once I became a Death Eater.

It was close to midnight when the conversation finally began to die down. Perhaps sleepiness made Bellatrix a bit more uninhibited, or maybe she was simply starting to loosen up around me—whatever the reason, she reached out and gave me a one-armed hug before bidding me good night. I nearly screamed.

She and Rodolphus rarely showed affection, to each other or to anyone else. I normally wouldn’t have grown so excited over a gesture as minor as a half-assed hug, but it was a big deal coming from Bellatrix. Especially given the tension that had been brewing in the house since I’d arrived. I considered this development a huge accomplishment, and could not stop smiling until I fell asleep that night.

* * *

Bellatrix and I started to get friendlier after that point. We talked more during our downtime, and she even bought me dinner once in a while. As much as I appreciated the latter, the former was more meaningful—the shift in our dynamic showed me that I was rubbing off on her. I was no longer some minorly annoying guest she was only housing to later impress the Dark Lord; I was someone she could now level with and talk to without a filter. And I could finally reveal that I was feeling the same way about her. I didn’t reveal that I viewed her a bit like the big sister I never had, but I did confess that I’d looked up to her for years. Surprisingly, this didn’t creep her out at all; she gave me a light shove and said, “Oh, stop it,” while grinning wryly. I knew she enjoyed hearing the compliment, even if she’d rather die than admit it.

We talked a lot about our Hogwarts experiences, as well as our tumultuous upbringings. She didn’t want to go into specifics, but she hinted at a lot of parental abuse and pressure to find a suitable husband above everything else. Though she and Rodolphus cared for one another, their marriage was more a convenience than a bond of love. The man was obviously not in the room when she shared this information. I promised not to repeat it.

As much as we shared with one another, I never vocalized my distaste for Pureblood culture—sure, I thought magic was superior in general, but I didn’t see the big deal about the races intermingling. I’d never called anyone a Mudblood or felt that Muggleborns should be treated as less than, simply for their blood status. And I certainly didn’t understand why it was so important for some families to keep their bloodlines pure that they would resort to incest and loveless marriages just for the sake of genetics. As the minority race of humanity, I didn’t think wizards could afford to be picky or magic would be in danger of dying out.

The masochistic part of me wanted to flat-out ask my hosts what the big deal was about blood purity, but that would be asking to be kicked out. And likely denied a place among the Death Eaters. I kept my head on straight and stuck to safer subject matter—a bit of a social land mine system, but I was agile at navigating such tasks. The household had settled into a relatively calm, predictable rhythm by this time and I saw no reason to disrupt it.

* * *

“Well, that was a bloody riot,” Bellatrix drawled as she kicked open the parlor door the day after New Year’s. I was reading on the couch and looked up to see her and Rodolphus storming into the room. They looked so angry, I worried I might set them off by breathing too loudly.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I swear to Merlin, if that bastard so much as LOOKS at me like we’re equals ever again, I will—”

“Bellatrix, calm yourself,” Rodolphus urged, placing his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “Breathe. Screaming won’t change the past.”

The woman flumped down next to me on the couch with a huff.

“What happened?” I repeated.

Rodolphus sighed and sat down on the chair near Bellatrix. “The Dark Lord had us trailing Donald Smith, this Ministry pissant who was trying to get Lucius Malfoy imprisoned again. Smith was nosing around Malfoy’s department, looking for intelligence; and another Death Eater at the Ministry, Edgar Selwyn, was supposed to distract Smith to throw him off the scent. Instead, he nearly revealed his _own_ status as a Death Eater—the Ministry brought him in for questioning yesterday and he just revealed everything at tonight’s meeting.”

“Holy shit. Seriously?”

“Mhmm.”

“How did Selwyn end up getting caught?”

“He didn’t get caught, but it was close.”

“What did he do?”

“It would take too long to explain,” Bellatrix cut in. “He made a series of several small bad decisions that led to him having to cover his tracks at the last second. Let’s say that he _barely_ weaseled his way out of imprisonment—but now he’s got Fudge’s lackeys watching him, to see if they can catch him doing anything incriminating. They’re just _dying_ to lock him up now.”

“Damn. So what happened at the meeting tonight?”

“The Dark Lord tortured Selwyn for his barely-acceptable acting skills, and then told him to keep his wits about him; one false move, and he’ll be dead before the Ministry can get their grubby hands on him.”

I sat quietly for a moment, processing what I had heard. And then something occurred to me. “Why didn’t Selwyn just kill or Obliviate Smith as soon as he realized the guy was onto him? I mean, if you’re going to put yourself out there, trying to defend a fellow Death Eater against the Ministry watchdogs, why not see the task through, you know? He shouldn’t have even let it get to the point that someone would _want_ to bring him in for questioning. Now he’s on the Ministry’s watch list and he’s gonna have to work awfully hard to convince these people to stop spying on him. Why did he hesitate? If I were Selwyn, I would’ve followed Smith home and cut him down right there.”

Husband and wife glanced at each other as I finished speaking. Rodolphus nodded curtly. My chest tightened; I had no idea what that gesture signified.

“What—what is it?” I asked nervously.

Bellatrix gave me the same look she’d given Rodolphus, but with a hint of a smile this time. “You’re ready.”


	22. Alternate Beginning 5 | Chapter 4

I sat on my bed, shifting my position every so often. My hands twisted in the blankets and smoothed over my skirt for the thirtieth time, while I attempted to slow my heart rate and stop my palms from sweating. Bellatrix had told me the night before that the Dark Lord would travel to Grimmauld Place to have lunch—and to meet me for the first time. I’d barely eaten breakfast, my mind already hours ahead, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to eat lunch either. Especially in front of the man I’d been researching for years.

I’d heard his voice when he had Apparated into the foyer half an hour earlier, conversing with Rodolphus before they went behind a closed door and I could no longer hear the conversation. A part of me had wanted to sneak out into the hallway and see if I could get a glimpse of him, but getting caught in such a position would have been beyond embarrassing. I stayed put.

Bellatrix appeared in the doorway a while later, chuckling at my blatant display of nerves. “He’s ready for you.”

I bit my lip and stood up to follow Bellatrix out into the hall and down the stairs. My heart sped up even more as we approached the parlor, where I heard the men talking. Bellatrix knocked.

“Come in.”

_That was not Rodolphus’s voice. Oh my god. It’s really him. Holy Merlin, this is actually happening._

Bellatrix opened the door to the parlor, and we went inside. It was hard to not let my gaze dart around the room; I wanted to appear calm and collected. And so I kept my focus on Bellatrix until she turned to face the visitor sitting on the couch. Rodolphus stood up from his chair to stand next to his wife as I locked eyes with the Dark Lord for the first time. I was thankful that no one could see my stomach lurch.

Just like in the pictures I’d seen of him, he was tall and pale with wavy black hair. I could admit, through my nerves, that this man dressed all in black was quite easy on the eyes: devastatingly handsome with a flash of malevolence in his smooth complexion. His expression was unreadable—he was neither smiling nor frowning, but he was staring at me with an intensity that made my insides feel like cold steel. My lips parted.

Bellatrix gave my shoulder a squeeze. “The girl, my Lord.”

I bowed my head, not knowing what else to do. My mouth suddenly felt like cotton. I snuck a glance upward and saw that the man’s eyes were still glued to me, his lips tightened in a barely-perceptible sneer.

Voldemort stared for another moment, before rising and walking toward me. He was about six feet tall, and looked even more domineering while standing mere inches in front of me, refusing to break eye contact. At five-foot-three, I could only make myself appear so tall, even when standing up as straight as possible.

His gaze traveled up and down my body for a moment, and I stared at the floor as I fought the urge to squirm. I wasn’t surprised that he wanted to size me up, but standing in his presence was still wildly nerve-wracking. Being short certainly didn’t help.

“Leave us.”

My head snapped up as soon as he spoke. I thought he was talking to me, and I was about to ask if I had done something wrong—until I saw that he’d been addressing the Lestranges. Bellatrix took her hand off my shoulder like it had just caught fire, and followed her husband out of the parlor. They shut the door without another word.

Voldemort slowly circled me a few times. I could feel his gaze roaming over me again, raising the fine hairs on my arms and the back of my neck, but I willed my facial muscles to remain relaxed. No one had ever looked at me so closely, and the gesture felt a bit too informal for a Dark wizard sizing up a new recruit; it felt more like a predator circling his prey. Unless, of course, unnerving potential Death Eaters was part of his routine, in order to weed out the weak ones. That must have been it.

I wanted to move my body—shift on my feet a bit, keep my eyes trailed on the enigmatic Dark wizard as he walked around my two-foot radius—but I dared not do anything he could use against me. I was so tense, I could barely look at the man when he once more stood before me and finally spoke.

“Miss Halaway, is it?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

He looked me over again. “You stand with poise. At your age, most cannot conceal their fear so well. Impressive.”

_Fuck. I forgot he’s a Legilimens. I’m done for...._

He chuckled and folded his arms, cocking his head to the side. “Tell me why you’re here, Little Miss Paranoid.”

I pressed my lips together, not sure how to respond to the insult, but determined to please the Dark Lord either way. Forcing myself to look into his probing eyes, I lifted my chin and declared, “I want to be a Death Eater.”

“So I’ve heard. Your lovely hosts have told me all about your brazen actions in getting to where you are now. Between the secret Dark Arts research and the risk you took in asking the Lestranges for housing, I’m sure you will serve me well—however, you’re not a shoe-in. No one is. In order to earn a place at my table, you must pass an initiation.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Torture and kill a Muggle. In front of me.”

“When do I do this?”

“Right now.”

I gasped. “Right—right now? How do we—”

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the parlor.

“Where are we going?”

“The basement. It’s a more open area, which will allow you plenty of room to work.”

All I could do was match his brisk pace and hope I could perform the task to his satisfaction.

* * *

And so commenced one of the defining moments of my life. The Dark Lord had me stand in the basement while he Apparated to Muggle London under a Disillusionment charm to search for the perfect victim. He returned a few minutes later with a brunette man who appeared in his mid-twenties.

“Show me creativity,” Voldemort instructed me as I brandished my wand. “Give me a reason to trust you. Show me the results of all that Dark Arts research.” He lowered his voice and spoke almost conspiratorially. “Show me what you’re capable of.”

As the Dark Lord reclined on a nearby chair, a switch flipped inside me, and it was as if all my prior reservations about getting caught red-handed were evaporating into nothingness. I cast spell after spell on my victim, causing him to suffer blood loss, dismemberment, and the eventual lack of oxygen when he drowned in his own vomit. I was covered in blood by the time I stood up and stomped on the corpse’s skull for good measure.

 _This is what I’m capable of,_ I thought as I matched the Dark Lord’s stare, determined to face my fear of him instead of cowering like a helpless child. I sorely wished to be a Legilimens—Voldemort’s expression was unreadable. Was he impressed? Bored? Angry? Contemplative? I couldn’t tell. And that was probably what he wanted.

We remained that way for what felt like ten minutes, simply staring each other down without speaking. The air crackled between us.

He eventually broke the silence. “I do not give praise when it is undeserved. I do not reward those who are unworthy.”

He stood up and walked around my victim, barely even acknowledging the body as he approached me. He was still giving me that unnerving stare, and I couldn’t help but fidget as I swallowed hard. Thankfully, he ignored my discomfort.

“Miss Halaway.”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“You have an aptitude for the Dark Arts that I have not seen in years. And I do not say this lightly, you understand. Not only will I grant you a seat at my table, but I will also begin teaching you the Dark Arts privately. I can train you to a level that you would not be able to achieve otherwise, and I cannot let such potential go to waste.”

My hands flew to my mouth and I gasped. I could hardly believe what I was hearing—Voldemort was actually _impressed_ with me! Not only had my research at Hogwarts paid off, but I was about to receive infinitely more rewards than I’d ever bargained for. I wanted to squeal in excitement, and I very well might have, were it not for the stern look in the Dark Lord’s eyes as he gently pulled my hands off my face.

“You have every right to feel triumphant, but do not let your emotions run away with you. Devoting yourself to my service is not a relaxing endeavor. Many Death Eaters cannot survive the tasks I require of them. I’ve no doubt that you will shine in my ranks, but do not think for one second that your hard work is complete. It has only just begun. If you want my continued respect, you must earn it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my Lord.” I bowed my head.

“Good. Now, we will meet twice a week, for three hours each time. I will assign you spells and charms to master, and I will also want to see the notes you took while researching the discipline at Hogwarts; we will go over them together. You still have them, yes?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Excellent. I will be back on Friday evening for our first session, after you return home from work. In the meantime, let’s go have lunch. Tomorrow night you will meet your comrades and receive the Dark Mark.” He brandished his wand to clean me and Vanish my victim, and then led me upstairs.

Though he’d just told me not to let my emotions get the best of me, it was all I could do not to jump up and down.

* * *

Initiation was a more social event than I’d been expecting. All the Death Eaters were in attendance, many of whom I met after being branded with the Dark Mark. For most of them, witnessing new inductions into the ranks was merely another order of business, but this was a day I knew I’d never forget. Especially after being hit with a shower of enchanted pink glitter, courtesy of the class clown Chicky. I hadn’t the faintest idea why the Dark Lord allowed such shenanigans, but he didn’t protest; he merely watched from several feet away and only turned his back when the self-named Pink Glitter Demon had cleaned up her mess. With a sly grin, she told me that she’d been giving every new initiate the same treatment for the past few years—after asking the Dark Lord’s permission, of course. This tradition was meant to test the mettle of each recruit, as well appease her bizarre sense of humor. She liked that I was a good sport and didn’t get offended by the sparkles.

My first Death Eater meeting took place a week later. All these gatherings took place in a large room at Malfoy Manor, in which we sat at a very long table to share news and receive assignments from the Dark Lord. I was nervous at first, but also strangely calm—everything I had worked for was finally falling into place, and so there really wasn’t much to be anxious about. I didn’t expect to be killed in action; with my years of Dark Arts research and one-on-one training with the Dark Lord, I was feeling more confident in my ability to hold my own.

I also fell in with a few of the younger recruits, who had graduated from Hogwarts a few years earlier. We had some interesting conversations at the end of some Death Eater meetings, in which we not only discussed our latest assignments but also our personal lives. Lucius Malfoy’s young cousin Margo, and her best friend Lulu, began inviting me over to their homes every couple of weeks for tea and chitchat. I never told them that the Dark Lord was training me privately—they probably would have been impressed, but I didn’t feel comfortable revealing something so personal. For whatever reason, I thought I would about die of embarrassment if they knew how much time I was spending alone with the man. I was barely comfortable with the Lestranges knowing about it. And I hoped the subtle unease I saw on their faces was only in my imagination.

* * *

My Dark Arts training was a rigorous process. Spending six hours per week alone with the most powerful wizard in the world, who tested my physical and mental limits and invaded my mind without surcease, left me drained. He seemed to relish every time he touched a sore spot, gleefully dragging my weaknesses up to the surface and then daring me to prove my ability to heal. He’d sneer triumphantly, grabbing my face and forcing me to make eye contact whenever I tried to turn away from him. Sometimes I’d want to punch the wall—or the Dark Lord’s face—during a particularly grueling session, but then he’d remind me that mastery of self-control was pivotal to mastery of magical skill. I had no choice but to push through and give him the results he wanted.

I always needed a nap after he’d gone home—so exhausted was I that I failed to notice the slow and steady return of tension between the Lestranges and myself. It was, unfortunately, not in my imagination.

It began cropping up in small, subtle behavioral shifts that I chalked up to outside factors. I thought maybe Bellatrix was just having a bad day when I excitedly told her about a complex spell I’d mastered, after weeks of struggling, and all she did was scoff and walk away. I wondered if Rodolphus was merely stressed when I’d mentioned something minorly amusing the Dark Lord had said to me during training, and he barely acknowledged me. I dismissed these bizarre exchanges for a while, wanting to believe that I wasn’t causing any problems—how could I have been? I was behaving as well as ever, I was thriving as a Death Eater, and I’d even acquired some friends in the ranks. I was steadily saving more and more money from my job, as low-paying as it was, and I believed I was maybe six months away from being able to rent a flat of my own without needing a roommate. Perhaps I would finish the year 2006 as a fully independent adult.

I constantly reminded myself that I hadn’t done anything wrong. It was inconceivable that my hosts had begun resenting me, after all the progress we’d made over the past year. I shoved down the creeping anxiety that kept wafting up into my chest, and told myself to stop being so paranoid—Little Miss Paranoid, as the Dark Lord had called me during our first meeting. I couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing him.

The man was clearly invested in my training, but there was always a dark undercurrent to our interactions. He wasn’t training me for the love of teaching; he was training me so that I could serve him better. And if I did not learn the skills he required of me, we’d have a serious problem. Still, I mostly enjoyed our lessons. Voldemort was an intense, charismatic instructor who would have made a brilliant Defense professor in another universe, but he had chosen another path that had allowed him to succeed all the same. He knew his strengths and embraced them without hesitation.

I couldn’t help but admire his success. His passion for the Dark Arts, and his determination to pass on his knowledge, were infectious. There were moments when I almost didn’t even mind when he stood a bit too close to me, or when his gaze lingered on me for little too long while explaining a new concept; all I cared about was absorbing as much information as possible and improving my skills just as well.

I only wished that my hosts were as excited as I was.

I tried getting to the bottom of the issue after two months of enduring this bizarre friction. Upon discovering Bellatrix sulking in the parlor, I asked if she was okay—and considering what had happened the last time I’d asked her that question, I hoped that such a query would trigger that memory and remind her that we were on the same side. I also still looked up to her, and I didn’t want to entertain the thought of such an incredible person turning on me inexplicably. Especially after we’d made so much progress.

“I’m fine,” she hissed. Clearly a lie.

“Are—are you sure? Do you need any—”

“I said I’m _fine,_ Alex. Can’t you see that I want to be alone?”

I quietly closed the parlor door and slinked off down the hall, not wanting to admit how much her words had stung. I began climbing the stairs and saw Rodolphus doing the same.

“Hey—is something going on with Bellatrix?” I asked him.

He paused mid-stride, his shoulders slumped. “Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled before continuing on his way.

I hurried to catch up to him. “When someone says ‘don’t worry about it,’they usually mean _do_ worry. Is something—did I do anything to offend her? Or you? I don’t understand why, all of a sudden—”

He held up his hand and shook his head. “You need to stay out of her way for the time being. That’s what I’ve been doing. I can’t deal with her when she—when she gets like this.”

“Like _what?_ Did something happen?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered with _brutal_ honesty,” he spat, and turned on his heel. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

All I could do was stare as he walked down the hall and slammed his bedroom door shut.


	23. Alternate Beginning 5 | Chapter 5

The Malfoys’ visit a few days later proved a welcome distraction. Since I was friendly with Margo, she came along; it wasn’t only Lucius and Narcissa this time. I was grateful for the opportunity to talk to someone my age, preventing me from sitting awkwardly in the corner while Bellatrix snarled at me.

Rodolphus’s words replayed in my head. _Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered with brutal honesty. Some things are better left unsaid._

But _what_ things? What on Earth had suddenly changed so profoundly that my hosts had done a complete one-eighty in only a few short months? I sighed, willing myself to remain present and enjoy Margo’s company instead of fretting about my future.

She talked a lot about her job at the Ministry, and how she often received Death Eater assignments that allowed her to help turn the institution in the Dark Lord’s favor. She was a great conversationalist and her stories were fascinating. As always, I was content to listen more than speak.

Speaking of Death Eater assignments, I had a training session that afternoon. I ended up telling Margo about my private lessons with the Dark Lord, since her knowing would minimize any shock or awkwardness she might feel upon the man’s arrival in a few hours. Though surprised that I’d kept such monumental information to myself, she didn’t question my motives; she knew how private I was and always respected my boundaries. Her calm, quiet encouragement felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the Lestranges’ recent behavior. There was no tension, cockiness, or resentment in Margo’s voice; merely the support of a friend who enjoyed hearing about another friend’s successes. It was a wonderful feeling. We talked nonstop for over an hour, until a silky voice interrupted us.

“Afternoon, my friends.”

Everyone stopped talking and looked up to see the Dark Lord standing in the doorway. He looked as regal as ever, surveying the room and noting everyone’s responses. He clearly didn’t feel the slightest discomfort over striding into someone else’s house and interrupting everyone’s conversations; in moments like these, he appeared to own the house more than its residents.

“Would you like some tea, my Lord?” asked Rodolphus.

“Not at the moment. Alex, come with me.”

More regal authority: cutting right to the chase with no pretense of enjoying idle chitchat. He didn’t have to. He’d face no consequences for refusing to comply with social norms.

I granted Margo a small smile before getting up and approaching the Dark Lord. His hand brushed against mine for a second as I squeezed through the doorway—why was he not allowing me enough space to pass through without our robes touching? I gave him a questioning look. He merely smirked and squeezed my shoulder before entering the hallway.

_What the hell was THAT about?_

He led me into the basement and began the session like always: having me repeat back what I had learned last time, and the areas I needed to improve. Satisfied with my review, he coached me through my weak spots and then moved on to newer subject matter. The predictable routine allowed me to relax and forget the awkward confusion I’d felt upon his arrival. The bizarre scene had left my mind completely until about two hours had passed.

The Dark Lord abruptly stopped speaking and glared at me. A piercing jolt of fear shot through my chest—he hadn’t looked at me like that since the day we met. Instead of circling me this time, however, he took a few steps forward so that there was no space between us. I backed up without thinking, and he followed, until my shoulders hit the wall. I was about to step to the side when he extended his arms and placed his hands on either side of my shoulders, boxing me in.

He stared me down and leaned in close, sneering at my apprehension. His nostrils flared a bit. His pupils were dilated. I wanted to say something, but my voice had stopped working.

“Miss Halaway,” he began in an almost barking tone, “Are you aware that you are quite...bewitching?”

I blinked. “W-what do you mean?”

He stepped in closer and smirked. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play coy with me.”

“I-I’m not playing coy! I don’t do that! I—what are you talking about?!”

“Stop it, Alex. I know you’re not as naïve as you’re acting; your intuition is better than that. If I have to spell it out for you, I might choose to use actions instead of words. Are you sure you want to take that chance? I won’t hold back.”

I suddenly remembered his hand rubbing my shoulder a few hours earlier, and the odd glint in his eyes. My face fell.

_Oh, god._

“Ahh. See, you _do_ understand; you just don’t want to believe that which you know is true.”

I looked at my feet and pressed my lips together, determined to remain quiet and unaffected as a cold finger trailed down my cheek and onto my neck.

“I picked up a bit of juicy gossip about you before we met, you know.”

“What?! What did I do?”

He chuckled. “I heard a little rumor that, in addition to impressing me, you also hoped to find a partner in my meeting room.”

My blood ran cold.

It was true that I’d entertained the thought of hooking up with some of the Death Eaters, but I hadn’t given the notion serious thought. I’d only just joined the group, and I hadn’t gotten a good look at many of the men. My mind hadn’t been on such topics lately. I’d also been more focused on my new friends; the end goal was to find like-minded individuals, in whatever form that took. I had mentioned this to the Lestranges as we’d begun to grow accustomed to each other, assuming that they would keep this information private. Apparently, they had not. I would have to confront them about that later—when the tension in the house wasn’t sky-high.

“There’s no need to be so embarrassed,” he jeered, stroking my cheek and pressing me up against the wall. “I understand your desires. I can also grant them.”

“W- _what?”_

“What if it was me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The man you hoped to find. What if it was me?”

His lips were on my neck, kissing and biting while he pinned my wrists against the wall.

“You—no. I know you don’t mean what you’re saying. You don’t _do_ that.”

“I don’t do what?” His mouth was still on my neck as he spoke, and I shivered.

“You don’t have a... _partner._ You don’t date or fall in love or any of that sort of thing.”

“Who said anything about love? Don’t tell me you fall prey to such weakness; I thought you were stronger than that.”

I flinched. “Well, I fell in love once a few years ago, but the boy really fucked me over; so I don’t care if it never happens again. I’m more interested in safety and respect than cards and flowers.”

“Smart girl.”

A heavy silence filled the room. I remained quiet until I could stand the pressure no longer.

“So...what exactly are you—I mean, what are you hoping to do?”

“Be with you.”

“In what way? If you don’t believe in love, then—”

“I believe in strength in numbers, hence my goal to amass as many followers as I can. I also believe in acquiring that which I desire to possess, be it tangible or not. As such, I do not merely want you at my meeting table; I also want you by my side.”

“But—”

“There has always been something between us. You know it as well as I.”

“What? _Always?_ No, that doesn’t—no. We...you were just—”

“Tell me: did you truly not see the way I looked at you when the Lestranges first presented you to me?”

“I thought you were just...sizing me up.”

“Sweetheart, I wasn’t _sizing you up;_ I was admiring your body. After I’d shooed the Lestranges out of the parlor, it was all I could do not to throw you on the couch and run my hands all over you. And your cheeks took on quite a lovely shade of pink under my gaze. You cannot tell me you feel nothing for me.”

Looking toward the door, I pondered dashing out of the basement, tearing up the stairs, and locking myself in my bedroom just to be alone. The air was growing too thick and hot around me, and I could barely catch my breath. Unfortunately, the powerful Legilimens standing before me would not allow me to leave. He grabbed my chin and jerked my head forward. My stomach flipped. I braced myself for a tongue-lashing, or a nasty curse—but instead, the man shocked me once more: he cupped my face in his hands and pressed his lips to mine.

His tongue was in my mouth but a second later, massaging firmly while his grip on my head tightened. I froze up for a moment, trying to get ahold of my thoughts as much as my breath while my body began to heat up. Keeping my mouth still required too much exertion in this position, and so I gave in and kissed him back. I had no idea how I was feeling, but I knew that I couldn’t afford to displease this man.

The act wasn’t entirely terrible, as it was—nerve-wracking and confusing beyond belief, but I could admit that my body was responding favorably in some capacity. I didn’t even mind that he was now pressing his body so firmly against mine, I could barely take a full breath; being trapped this way prevented me from doubling over as my knees quivered.

He kept me in position for a moment after he released my lips, stroking my cheeks and looking into my eyes. I had no idea what to say or do, so I simply stood there and waited for his next move. Which came in the form of hard kisses trailing down my neck. My breathing sped up.

“Your training is complete for the day. I’ll see you back upstairs,” he murmured in my ear before turning around and walking away. I slid down the wall and curled into myself, resting my forehead on my knees. My heart was racing and an uncomfortable throbbing had swelled in between my legs—a sensation I had not felt in a long time. Its resurfacing, under my current circumstances, terrified me. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly several times.

Since the Dark Lord had left me alone in the basement, I resigned myself to hiding out until I felt ready to rejoin everyone. I was in no shape to socialize.

* * *

Finally picking myself off the floor, I slowly ventured out of the basement and climbed the stairs. No one was in the parlor and the door was wide open; however, I heard voices coming from the dining room. I cautiously walked down the hallway and listened—it sounded like Lucius and Voldemort were discussing something Death Eater related, and so I saw fit to join the group.

“Ahh, there she is,” the Dark Lord drawled upon hearing the door open. “We were beginning to wonder when you’d finally join us.” He gestured to the empty chair next to Margo, and I sat down.

“Did I miss something important?” I asked.

“We’ve been discussing the latest intelligence on a small resistance group, word of which is cropping up more and more lately. Lucius caught a whiff of it at work the other day.”

“Oh! That...doesn’t sound good.”

“Indeed not. We’re talking about who should trail these people and find out what they’re planning. I will bring them to heel as soon as possible.”

I nodded my agreement, listening to the conversation but not participating. My head was spinning too much for me to speak eloquently, and so I thought it best to remain quiet. It was a blessing to be able to blend in, my presence remaining in the background instead of being the center of attention. I had even managed to relax a bit, especially with Voldemort acting like nothing had happened in the basement, until about half an hour had passed and Rodolphus changed the subject during a lull in the conversation.

“Are you staying for dinner, my Lord?” he asked.

“Yes. But I will not be eating with the family.”

“Oh! Where—I mean, why not?”

“I will be dining alone. With Alex.”

My head snapped up and my eyes widened as I looked toward the head of the table. The Dark Lord was giving me that bloody stare again, not even _trying_ to hide his intentions from everyone. They might not have given a damn what the Dark Lord and I did behind closed doors, but I certainly didn’t want them to know. And he certainly didn’t care. I wanted to smack him.

“May I ask why?” Bellatrix added, sounding offended for some reason.

Still looking at me, he answered, “I have a personal matter to discuss with her.”

I grimaced ever so slightly, knowing full well the content of this _personal matter_ and hating the sensation of so many eyes on me. I wished to cave into myself and disappear. My eyes dropped to my lap.

A tense silence hung in the air until Voldemort rose and gestured for me to follow.

“Tell the elf to bring our plates into the parlor,” he ordered Rodolphus.

I slowly got to my feet and followed the Dark Lord, feeling the hard gazes of my comrades as I left the dining room. I didn’t want to know what they were thinking.


	24. Alternate Beginning 5 | Chapter 6

Once the parlor door was closed, and we were seated on the couch, the Dark Lord tucked my hair behind my ear and kissed my cheek a few times. I grimaced.

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered.

“As I said earlier: I want to be with you.”

“But—why?”

“For many reasons. You are loyal, powerful, beautiful, and highly intelligent. All traits I value. And the more time I spend training you, the more I realize that I genuinely enjoy your company. Have you any idea how rare that is?”

I confessed to assuming that he didn’t enjoy anyone’s company; he only tolerated people as long as they could serve him. He laughed while commending my observational skills. Apparently, he did enjoy some conversation with like-minded individuals once in a while, but—as I had suspected—only if the other parties had something he wanted.

And right then, he wanted a kiss.

One hand was in my hair, gripping tightly, and the other was roving across my breasts. He kissed me a lot harder than he’d done in the basement; I wondered if my lips would bruise before he finally pulled away. I still didn’t know why I was matching his intensity, clutching his robes while our tongues collided, but I thought it best to shelve my thoughts for later. Nothing good would come of my protesting.

His face was now buried in my neck, and he was mumbling something unintelligible. Though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what he was saying, I could admit that I did enjoy the feeling of his lips pressing against my skin and his arms winding around me to pull me close. It was nice to feel wanted. My breath came in short, deep bursts as I sagged against him.

The arrival of our dinner offered a much-needed reprieve, and a chance for me to think more clearly. We ate in blessed silence.

After the elf cleared our plates, the Dark Lord began asking me some personal questions: he wanted to know about my schooling, my goals, and that which had drawn me to the Dark Arts. I didn’t fully trust the man, and his probing made me nervous, but I could see how he might find a person interesting enough to hold a stimulating conversation. He was not chatty himself, choosing to reveal far less about himself than he was asking me to share. That didn’t surprise me. Still, I appreciated that he was a very attentive listener. He wasn’t faking his interest in my words.

I’d never before imagined that he’d desire such discourse, and so I was still wary of his motives in seeking me as a partner. I figured that if I could drag out my decision-making process as long as possible, I could get a better picture of the Dark Lord as a man, and not just a powerful wizard collecting minions.

“I can see that you’re hesitant about all of this,” he remarked after we’d been talking for about an hour.

I swallowed hard. “How could I not be?”

“If you would stop being so paranoid all the time. Have faith in your good fortune. Trust me.”

“I’m not very good at trusting people.”

“And yet you moved in with strangers at the drop of a hat.”

“That’s different! I’d been talking to them for months, and we—” Did I really want to tell him that they were using me to curry favor with him, as much as I was using them to get to him?

“You think I don’t know what goes on in everyone’s heads, love?”

I frowned and stared at the floor.

“Your motives for living here are of no concern to me. Neither are theirs. As long as you remain loyal and respectful, no harm will befall you—in my meeting room or in my bed.”

My whole body tensed as I struggled not to double over. I was not one for dramatic body language, but the Dark Lord’s words evoked a strong physical response. And not a pleasurable one, at that. I couldn’t even look at him now.

“Just think about it,” he murmured before kissing my cheek. He Disapparated a moment later.

I sat frozen in place, utterly bewildered. The Dark Lord wanted to _be with me._ I doubted that the phrase signified anything more than a trashy affair that would fizzle out eventually, but I wasn’t sure how I felt either way. On one hand, it was nice to feel desired; but on the other hand, I didn’t know enough about him to feel safe making a concrete decision. Sure, I had _read_ about him for years and interacted with him as a Death Eater, but I hadn’t spent any time with him outside of those dynamics to get a good read on how it would feel to be with him. And plus, I wasn’t comfortable carrying out such a relationship while living with fellow Death Eaters. Perhaps if I were able to—

“KREACHER!! YOU WORTHLESS FUCKING IMBECILE! WHY AREN’T YOU CLEARING THE PLATES YET?!?! YOU THINK THIS IS A BLOODY VACATION, YOU STUPID ELF?!”

Bellatrix’s screeching tore me out of my ruminations and back into the present moment.

What on Earth had the elf done? He wasn’t the nicest living being to spend time with, but I never thought his behavior was bad enough to warrant such a strong reaction.

Unless Bellatrix was taking out prior aggression on him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Elf and mistress flew into the parlor, one screaming and the other moaning in pain, while I sat wide-eyed on the couch. The woman continued shouting and smacking the elf around, only stopping when she registered my presence. She looked daggers at me. There was a faint glistening in her eyes.

“Are you—”

She waved me off. “Where’s the Dark Lord?”

“He left. What ha—”

“Don’t say a word, Alex. Don’t you say a _fucking_ word.” She and the elf left as quickly as they’d entered.

I stared at a spot on the floor, utterly bewildered. My body locked; I could barely even breathe. How could I face my hosts? How could I just get up and act like nothing had happened, with my head zooming in fifty different directions and Bellatrix going on a rampage about Merlin-knew-what? The woman was still stomping around down the hall, forcefully enough that the floor vibrated.

I only opened the parlor door when the noise died down several minutes later. My heart was in my throat as I braced for more drama—which was indeed happening, but it did not include me. Bellatrix and Rodolphus were arguing in the dining room. I knew I should have gone upstairs, but I couldn’t resist sneaking down the hall and pressing my ear to the door.

“As I’ve been telling you for years: you need to move on,” Rodolphus spat. “This is getting ridiculous. He was bound to start losing interest at some point. And anyway, you don’t even know what they were discussing.”

“What other _personal matter_ could that have been?! You saw the way he looked at her! And stop being such a hypocrite! You keep going back to—”

“I’m not even seeing her anymore! I stopped three years ago. How can you hold that over my head?”

“Bollocks, Rod. You told me so many times that you were done with her, but then you’d come home smelling like that mangy _filth—”_

“Ramona was not _filth,_ Bellatrix. And in case you’ve forgotten, your transgressions lasted far longer than mine, and I still looked the other way. I swear to Merlin, I’ve only ever been second best to you! You should see this as an opportunity to nurture our marriage.”

“At least I wasn’t shagging a bloody _werewolf!_ That’s disgusting! You should’ve....”

I shook my head and tiptoed away, not wanting to hear any more petty bickering. I hadn’t even learned much, anyway; just that they’d both had affairs and now that subject was resurfacing for some reason. I didn’t want to get involved in such a discussion, and so I quietly crept down the hall to my bedroom, intent on retiring for the night with no fuss.

My hand had just closed around the doorknob when I suddenly latched onto something Bellatrix had said to Rodolphus: _What other_ personal matter _could that have been?!_

She was obviously talking about the Dark Lord and me. But why would she have cared what we’d been discussing in the parlor? And why was she so angry about us having eaten dinner alone?

My stream of consciousness then flitted to Rodolphus’s cryptic words from a few weeks earlier, which had been replaying in my head since then: _Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered with brutal honesty. Some things are better left unsaid._

And suddenly, all the tension in this house made sense. My knees nearly buckled.

_So that’s what this is about. Bellatrix is in love with the Dark Lord. She always has been. She had an affair with him for years, and now he’s left her for me. She’s jealous._

“Oh my god,” I whispered, whirling into my bedroom and locking the door with trembling hands.

Was this house still safe for me? Would Bellatrix try to harm me, now that she suspected the Dark Lord of wanting me? She would never hurt _him,_ but what would be stopping her from torturing me to death and then disposing of my body somewhere and claiming that I’d simply run off? She was one of the most powerful Death Eaters; I’d seen her demonstrate her skills enough during group Dark Arts training that I knew not to mess with her.

I wondered if the Dark Lord would be angry if Bellatrix murdered me. Would he kill her in retaliation? Doubtful. Just because he wanted me didn’t mean he _cared_ about me. He’d flat-out admitted to thinking love was a weakness, and I doubted he viewed his interest in me as a detriment to his wellbeing. I was replaceable. Be that as it may, I had to keep my wits about me. The best way to prevent harm was to avoid Bellatrix at all costs until I could finally get out of this house.

The thought saddened me. I still admired the woman for all her strengths and everything she had accomplished—and I had enjoyed getting closer to her. All of that was gone now.

It was so unfair. I’d long since told Bellatrix how severely I’d been ostracized, at school and at home; thus she knew that no man had ever been interested in me before, and I hadn’t even given the concept serious thought in years. I was barely an adult, just trying to make my way in the world. I wasn’t some homewrecking whore breaking up marriages to boost my ego! How could Bellatrix forget all of that in an instant?

And why wasn’t she willing to talk to _me_ about what was going on? How had it not occurred to her to find out how _I_ was feeling about all of this? I hadn’t seduced the Dark Lord; he had come on to me, all by himself, and I still didn’t even know how I felt about him. I was overwhelmed. I could admit that I found him physically appealing; but if he owled me in the morning and told me that he’d changed his mind about being with me, I would feel no sense of loss. I wasn’t in love—or even in lust—with him, like Bellatrix was. For the love of Merlin, I had nearly been sick at his mere _mention_ of intimacy. Didn’t that count for something? Probably not, considering that she didn’t seem the least bit interested in talking to me in a civilized tone.

The one-two punch hit a moment later as tears spilled down my cheeks: I had moved from one family to another, both of whom viewed me as an inconvenience and a source of anger. I was the hero of my own story and the villain of everyone else’s. Was I really better off here than I’d been in America? Had I bitten off more than I could chew, like my parents had accused me of doing? Was this all a waste?

* * *

I fell into a restless doze, drifting in the hazy in-between place. My whirring thoughts were finally slowing down for the night. I was teetering on the edge of fully losing consciousness when I felt a tickle on my left cheek. I swatted at the area and groaned softly; the sensation had almost roused me, but not enough to fully bring me back to conscious awareness. It was probably just a bug, or the makings of a dream breaking through.

A moment later, I felt a kiss on my forehead. I awoke with a gasp and bolted upright, clutching the blanket around my bare body as my eyes darted around the room. I thought I caught a glimpse of the Dark Lord, but the image disappeared before I could fully register what I’d seen. I must have been dreaming. And hallucinating too, at this rate. What a stable individual I was.

With exhaustion still playing at the corners of my awareness, my thoughts were not moving as quickly or clearly as they normally did. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. In this relaxed state, I felt more comfortable thinking about topics that would normally make me cringe—like the image of the Dark Lord sneaking into my bedroom and kissing my face. And maybe a bit lower down, too. Perhaps if he really did visit me, I would pretend to be asleep and only open my eyes when he tore off the comforter and covered my naked body with his own.

My hands found my breasts under the blanket, stroking and squeezing and thumbing the hardened peaks already erect and aching to be touched. It wasn’t like I was _hoping_ this would happen with Voldemort; just experimenting with the sensation to see if I liked it. He _had_ told me to think about being with him, after all. I was merely following his orders.

I imagined hands bigger and stronger than my own, fondling my breasts and stroking my waist while soft lips trailed kisses down my belly and in between my legs. Would I part my thighs without a second thought, or would the Dark Lord have to coax me into it? I wasn’t easily swayed by charm or seduction, but if it was _him—_

I was groping my moistened folds and rubbing my clitoris before I could stop myself. My lips parted and I panted silently, wondering how it would feel to completely lose control—moaning shamelessly, bucking my hips enough to make the bedsprings creak, gripping thick locks of wavy black hair while forcefully grinding against the handsome face buried in between my thighs....

I was shuddering and biting back a howl a few minutes later. My jaw and windpipe hurt from the exertion of keeping quiet until the shockwaves finally ebbed—they came in waves, four times over, and I thought I might wake up the entire neighborhood if I opened my mouth. I would also likely need a change of sheets in the morning.

I wiped my soaked fingers on my thigh and sighed loudly. Though fully aware of what I had just done, I was afraid to open my eyes, as if keeping them closed would somehow shut out the truth that I was trying to avoid.

For all my uncertainty about my feelings for the Dark Lord, I certainly wasn’t doing a good job of convincing myself that I didn’t want to be with him.


	25. Alternate Beginning 5 | Chapter 7

I awoke mortified, convinced that I would never touch myself again. At least, not until I could be sure that the Dark Lord wouldn’t be the reason for the pulsing ache swelling in between my legs. If he ever knew what I’d done, he would likely force himself on me without hesitation. He might even do it in front of Bellatrix to rub salt in the wound, sadistic bastard that he was.

 _You want this,_ I pictured him growling as he tore my clothes off and shoved me onto my bed. Or the dining room table. _You want my hands roving all over you. You want me to fuck you until you scream. You’re lying to yourself as much as you’re lying to me, the latter of which I never tolerate. Even if I didn’t want you by my side, I would still have to take you now as punishment. You’ve earned this. And remember that any protests will only arouse me further._

He’d been teaching me Occlumency for a few months now, with meager results. I could only hope that my shields were powerful enough to protect that memory from his invasion.

* * *

Whether my Occlumency skills were sufficient, or Voldemort was merely choosing to ignore my solo show for some reason, he never brought it up. He still kissed me every time we met for training, murmuring in my ear and making me shiver while his hands stroked my breasts, but it felt more like a perk than the mark of a serious relationship—we weren’t spending any time together outside of training.

Things had settled back down in the house; outside of Bellatrix giving me the silent treatment and Rodolphus not that far behind, I wasn’t complaining. The tension was still pressing down on all of us, but no one acknowledged it. That was better than dirty looks and nasty comments.

Still, I felt very conflicted. On one hand, I now felt a hot spike of excitement whenever I first saw the Dark Lord as he entered the house, but I was also afraid of what Bellatrix would do to me if she knew what was happening between us. She obviously suspected, but she had no concrete proof. The only thing she could pinpoint was the sizzle of sexual tension. Perhaps Rodolphus had talked some sense into her, or perhaps she’d decided enough was enough and now she was trying to get over her lost love; either way, the worst she did was ignore me. I stayed in my room almost all the time now, outside of work and my Death Eater responsibilities, and it seemed that the storm might even blow over at some point. There was no way Bellatrix could just drop me like a piece of spoiled food. I still hoped to rekindle our friendship one day.

Three weeks passed in this manner before anything changed.

Near the end of a training session, the Dark Lord and I were standing at the hightop table he had conjured from an empty old bookcase, on which my old research notes were spread out. The Dark Lord preferred standing to sitting, and so we always stood side by side at this table while reviewing the notes I’d taken at Hogwarts. I told him what I had learned from various books, demonstrating my skills and showing him where I needed assistance. He was happy to fill in the cracks.

While he was speaking, I absentmindedly placed my hand on my neck and began kneading. A knot was beginning to form, and I hoped to relax the muscles before they started hurting. I winced as I pressed on a particularly sore spot near my shoulder.

“What is it?” the Dark Lord asked, watching the motion of my hand.

“My neck is a bit stiff; I’m just rubbing it.”

I felt my hair being brushed over my shoulder a moment later, and my hand being pulled off my neck. The Dark Lord’s fingers had just replaced mine, and he was massaging my neck with more force than I could ever exert. I gasped.

“What are you—”

“Shhh.”

“I—”

“Breathe. Slowly. That’s an order.”

“Yes, my Lord,” I whispered, trying my hardest to calm my nerves.

He had never touched me this way. I’d grown accustomed to being grabbed, slammed against the wall, and kissed forcefully enough that my mouth felt fatigued afterwards—but I’d never experienced anything this...gentle. He was rubbing my neck slowly and firmly, and with purpose. I could tell that he wasn’t touching me for the sake of touching me; he was actually searching for the spots that were causing me pain, and trying to relax me. And it was working. My inhalations were gradually decreasing in frequency. My head dropped down a bit as I felt the Dark Lord’s hands move down to my shoulders, and then a bit lower.

“You hold a lot of tension in your body,” he murmured in my ear before kissing my nape. “Especially in your shoulders and lower back.”

“I know. I’ve been trying to relax more lately, but it’s hard—there’s so much going on right now and I don’t feel like I completely have my footing yet. I’m still adjusting to my adult life.”

“It will take time.” He kissed my neck again, opening his mouth a bit. “I am confident that you will flourish, once your circumstances are more stable. For now, this is enough.”

“W-what’s enough?”

“This.”

His hands were still moving lower, down my back and onto my hips, while he continued kissing my neck. Despite his command to relax, my heart rate was spiking again—moreso as his left arm wrapped around my waist to pull me against his chest.

“Part of your restlessness comes from unmitigated fear,” he went on, his lips on my ear as he spoke. I shuddered. “You fear the unknown more than you care to admit. As brave as you are, your fear sometimes holds you back and renders you incapable of seeing your good fortune for what it is. You must learn to temper this irrationality and acknowledge that which is stifling your growth—consciously and unconsciously.”

As he spoke those last three words, his right hand slipped into my panties and began groping the tender flesh. I tried to pull away, but he leaned forward so that my breasts were pressed against the edge of the table. I couldn’t move.

“Mm...silky smooth,” he drawled as he rubbed back and forth. “How did I know.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but my words came out as a breathy moan when two cold fingers slipped inside me. They moved slowly at first, in a steady rhythm, before suddenly pumping with unexpected force. I squealed. My legs began to shake and I fell forward, my head collapsing onto my arms, which were now draped across the table top. The Dark Lord continued stimulating me until the pressure burst in my core. I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming.

I remained in that position even after he removed his fingers from my body—reluctantly, it seemed. With my eyes closed and my head resting on my arm, I was maybe minutes away from losing consciousness. Until Voldemort grabbed my waist and turned me around to face him. Without a word, he effortlessly hoisted me up so that I was sitting on the table top. In this strange position, his head was barely level with my breasts.

“What are you doing?” I chuckled, equal parts nervous and amused.

“Lie down.”

“What? On—on the table?! Why?”

“Stop questioning me and do what I tell you.”

A jolt of anxiety ripped through my body as I slowly reclined. Even while looking up at me, he’d still commanded authority and made me worry what would happen if I displeased him.

While I was staring up at the ceiling and wondering what on Earth the man was thinking, he was busy unzipping my skirt. He sharply pulled it down and tossed it to the floor, ignoring my gasp. He peeled off my underwear a second later, and dropped them on top of my skirt.

_This isn’t fantasy anymore; this is real. Holy shit. Do I actually want this, or was it just a pleasing late-night image?_

“Spread your legs.”

“I—could we maybe—”

“ _Now,_ Alex _._ One more act of disobedience, and I curse you. And remember: I’ll still have you either way. It is your choice whether you allow yourself to enjoy it or not.”

I reluctantly parted my thighs. “I’m sor— _ohh!”_

His tongue was frantically lapping at my core, pressing down firmly while his hands snaked around my thighs to pull me flush against his face. He gripped the soft flesh hard enough to bruise. I could feel his harsh, staggered breathing as his mouth moved, kissing and licking and sucking hungrily. His tongue probed inside me over and over. The vibrations of his satisfied groans spiked my arousal.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. I flashed back to my initial plan as a Hogwarts student: joining the Dark Lord strictly as a Death Eater, and meeting him with all his other recruits to follow his formal orders; nothing more. I thought I had prepared for every possible scenario involving him, but nothing could have prepped me for this—lying splayed out on a table, panting and moaning while the man devoured me in a frenzy I didn’t know he possessed. Though I’d imagined him in this position many times over the past few weeks, I wasn’t sure if he’d ever get to this point in real life. Still, I hardly had reason to protest. I was enjoying it as much as I’d enjoyed the fantasy in my mind. When he spread my swollen folds and began licking my clitoris, my body arched and the back of my head hit the table as my eyes squeezed shut. I bit my lip to stifle my cries.

And then a most shocking thing happened: his mouth was still moving over my dripping center, but his voice was speaking to me inside my head.

 _Give in,_ he ordered. _I want to feel your body convulse in my hands. I want that delicious little cunt grinding against my face when you come. I don’t care if the whole neighborhood can hear you scream; don’t hold back._

Were his mouth not working me expertly, he might have tipped me over the edge with his words alone. I was soon doing exactly what he wanted, crying out my release while hoping that no one upstairs could hear me—though I’d never admit that some very small part of me was curious about what might happen if we were to be discovered. Perhaps that’s why the Dark Lord was doing this: forcing me out of my comfort zone, with no way of shrinking it back to its former barriers. Merlin, his teaching methods really were unusual.

* * *

I wasn’t sure if our dynamic now qualified as a partnership. I wasn’t comfortable giving it a title. Regardless, it certainly wasn’t trainer and trainee anymore. The Dark Lord wasn’t calling me his partner, or any other word—other than my name and “Hello, beautiful” when we were alone. Whatever this arrangment was, it had clearly turned into a full-blown affair. There were a few repeat performances of the interrupted note-reviewing session, with me either splayed out on the table or on my knees before him, but mostly it was just kissing and touching in various places. I began anticipating the man’s arrival more and more as the weeks passed.

One night, I was half asleep when déjà vu hit—I thought I felt a kiss on my forehead. Was I really that desperate that I would twice conjure an image that had made me uncomfortable?

I opened my eyes, intent on setting myself straight by registering the emptiness of my room before going to sleep—with no activities in between—but the sight before me stopped my breath. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, not believing what I was seeing until I heard the silky voice I’d come to adore: the Dark Lord was standing beside my bed, shirtless. I gasped and quickly sat up.

“Finally admitting it, are you?” he drawled softly.

“Wh—admitting what?”

“You were never hallucinating, sweetheart. A locked door could never keep me away from you.”

My stomach dropped. “You—you were really here that night?”

“Yes. I only wish I’d stayed long enough to witness your little performance afterwards—oh, stop looking so mortified, you really think I never saw that when I looked into your mind?”

I shuddered and bowed my head, clenching my jaw until the Dark Lord lifted my chin and tried to kiss me. I pulled away.

“You dare resist me?” he challenged. “After everything we—”

“That was private!” I protested.

“Nothing about you is private anymore. Not to me.” He climbed on top of me and clamped his legs around mine. “You’ve nothing to fear, as it is—as long as you continue to obey me, of course. Stop worrying; I’ve seen all there is to see in that brilliant, twisted mind of yours, and I still want you. I always have.”

“I—I mean, could you maybe...stand up for a second? I’m not...wearing anything.”

“That’s exactly why I’m here.”

His mouth covered mine before I could utter another word. He kissed me hard, gripping my face and grinding against my pelvis. Even through the blanket, I could feel his arousal pressing against me. I squirmed.

“Could we just—could we just wait a bit? Please, I—”

“No. I’ve waited long enough.”

He rolled off of me for a moment, only to yank the blanket off. I had no time to register the change in temperature, with a hard body suddenly covering mine. The Dark Lord wound my legs around his back before grabbing my wrists and slamming them onto the mattress. He kissed his way across my neck and throat, only releasing my arms to massage my breasts. I arched into his hands.

Was I really still hesitating? Did I actually believe that some part of me didn’t want him? Between the heavy sighs and the burgeoning ache in my core, I supposed I finally had my answer.

Keeping his hands on my breasts, he left a trail of hard, firm kisses down my stomach and in between my thighs. I spread my legs wider as soon as his mouth connected with my throbbing flesh. Even after we’d been engaging in this behavior for several weeks, it felt more thrilling this time—we were in the privacy of my bedroom, in the middle of the night. Unlike our mini trysts during my training sessions, there was virtually no chance of us getting caught. I stretched out and lost myself in the glorious sensation of the greedy tongue lapping at me like a starving animal.

He worked me up until my release was seconds away, and then began placing passionate kisses down my inner thigh. I nearly screamed in protest.

“Please...” I breathed. “Please...I can’t—”

A light, mocking chuckle was his only response, followed by more firm kisses. His mouth traveled closer and closer to the clenching muscles in between my thighs, lingering for a moment. He opened his mouth wide, exhaled slowly over the soaked flesh, and then moved to my other thigh. This time, I cried out. Though his kisses were deeply erotic, I wanted more. And he knew that. His lips were slowly moving up and down my thigh, revving up the anticipation over and over. He was deliberately avoiding the place where I wanted him the most, delaying and delaying and driving me further into a frenzy until my eyes welled up. I banged my fist on the mattress and gritted my teeth, ready to reach down and grab his hair the way I’d done in my fantasy. I wanted to press myself against his lapping tongue, holding his head in a vise-grip and bucking my hips until I finally got the blessed release I craved, but he would not allow it—as soon as the thought crossed my mind, he pinned my wrists down so I couldn’t move my arms.

He lifted his head up and released my arms after a few more minutes of tormenting me, staring at me with fire in his eyes. I begged him again and again, to no avail. He merely stared back, while holding my thighs tightly to keep me from moving.

What was he thinking? Why was he doing this? I knew he liked to tease, but this was going above and beyond his previous treatment. Was he merely indulging his sadism again, albeit in a more pleasurable way? He’d never tortured me, but I would have almost preferred that in my current delirium.

At last, he spoke. “I will allow you to orgasm under one condition.”

“W-what...what are you talking about?”

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“What?”

“You belong to me. I need you to say it. You’ve been putting it off for ages, and I will not allow your hesitation a second longer without punishing you. Say it now.”

I bit my lip. “I—I’m yours.”

He scoffed. “You have to _mean_ it, Alex. You must agree to stand by my side and be faithful to me, as I am to you. From now on, you are not to consort with other men, flirt with them, or spend any time with them unless the relationship is strictly platonic—and even then, you will require my permission. You belong to me, and me alone. You are loyal to me, you do what I tell you, and you trust me to know what’s best for you. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes....”

“So tell me. Convince me that you’ve earned my touch tonight.”

I was silent for another moment. On one hand, the prospect of being in a relationship was thrilling—I’d never engaged with a man that way, and I’d always felt more comfortable viewing the Dark Lord’s behavior as a purely physical venture. As I’d told him many weeks earlier, he didn’t seem the type to desire a partnership. He had no equals.

At least he wasn’t pretending to view me on his level. He’d laid all his cards out on the table. Demanding that I obey his every whim, and calling me _his_ like I was a treasure only he deserved to possess, was the closest he’d ever get to a normal relationship. And since I wasn’t exactly normal myself, this was probably the best-case scenario. My stalling period was at its end.

I looked into his eyes before I spoke, to make sure I appeared sincere. “I’m yours.”

“You belong to me.”

“I belong to you.”

He nodded slowly, the makings of a triumphant grin creeping onto his face before he once more latched onto my quivering flesh and buried his tongue deep. When he at last pulled me over the precipice, I had to turn my head and squish my face into the pillow to stifle my cries.

His tongue continued moving, forcing me to peak another three times before he finally lifted his head up. My head was still pressed into the pillow, and so I wasn’t watching the Dark Lord remove the rest of his clothes and slide back up my body. Still surfacing from the orgasmic haze, I didn’t even fully register his lips on my neck or his hands on my head, pulling my face toward his. I slowly reached up and caressed his biceps as we kissed.

I moaned in his mouth as I felt a harsh snap in between my legs. I wished he had warned me first, but there was no going back. He was already moving inside me, slowly at first, so that I could acclimate to his length. When pain at last melted into pleasure, I slipped my arms around his back and nestled my head in the crook of his neck—I didn’t trust myself to keep totally quiet, and so I needed something to muffle my cries. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he followed my example. His teeth clamped down on my nape as he began moaning louder. The pain in my torn skin mixed with the pleasure building in my core, and I was soon shuddering through another wave of bliss. The Dark Lord groaned loudly; I felt his back muscles tighten just before he spilled himself inside me.

He lay atop me for another moment, and then rolled over onto his back. Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

When he finally stood up to dress and clean up, I was barely conscious. I mumbled an incoherent reply when he kissed my neck and told me he’d be back for training three days later, but I kept my eyes closed. I knew, even semi-conscious, that I wouldn’t be able to process what had just happened until the morning, and so I was already asleep by the time my bedfellow Disapparated.


	26. Alternate Beginning 5 | Chapter 8

“What’s that on your neck?”

Rodolphus regarded me with narrowed eyes and a frown as Kreacher cleared the breakfast plates. Bellatrix had already left the room, pretending I’d been invisible.

It took me a second to realize that I had absentmindedly tossed my hair over my shoulder, revealing one of the bright red marks the Dark Lord had bestowed on my neck the previous night. My face warmed as I cleared my throat and rearranged my hair.

He scoffed and shook his head before walking away. “You two aren’t even _trying_ to hide it anymore, are you.”

I made to protest, but he was already out of the room. My shoulders slumped.

I would tell no one that the Dark Lord had visited me in the middle of the night. As enjoyable as our first sexual encounter had been, I was grateful for a reprieve where I wouldn’t have to see him for a few days. I needed some time to mull everything over. My head was still spinning, and so all I managed to do at home was sit in my room and read. The distraction of made-up stories was a godsend.

Unlike me, the Dark Lord had no qualms about my hosts knowing what we were doing behind closed doors. My training continued as usual, but he now insisted on taking me to bed after each session. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, or how many people were in the house. I had no problem with it on the days when I had the house to myself—which he also preferred, since I actually allowed myself to make some noise—but he wasn’t any less determined when the Lestranges were pottering about the house, or entertaining guests in the parlor.

Everyone knew what was going on. It was no secret that Voldemort was paying me special attention when he traveled to Grimmauld Place. We may not have been terribly vocal in the bedroom, despite the occasional loud moan, but it surely didn’t take much brainpower to figure out why the Dark Lord and I were now spending time behind my closed bedroom door after every training session. And even if my hosts’ deductive reasoning skills had been lacking, the creaking of the bed springs was surely a dead giveaway. My bedfellow refused to cast a silencing spell, no matter how much I asked. _Especially_ given how much I asked.

At least the Lestranges and their socialite friends knew they couldn’t say anything against us—anyone standing up to the Dark Lord paid a hefty price. Rodolphus made that one snarky comment over breakfast, sneering at me like a shameless slut, but I never heard anything similar after that. As uncomfortable I was with my new relationship being an open secret, at least no one was harassing me over it.

* * *

Several weeks passed, with the Lestranges still giving me their backs but allowing me to remain under their roof. However, I was feeling a bit more optimistic—I’d been looking at the rental market, and it appeared that I was just about ready to cobble together a security deposit for a flat in a decent area. I wouldn’t have to remain at Grimmauld Place much longer.

A few hours after a training session in late August, I left my bedroom and stole down to the kitchen for a snack. I hadn’t eaten enough dinner, as my stomach was now informing me. While I descended the stairs and walked down the hall, the sound of screaming voices stopped me in my tracks.

The shouting match was coming from the dining room. I crept up to the doorway, ignoring my racing heart and the pressing feeling in my gut, telling me to race back upstairs and pack my bags _now._

“That fucking slag thinks she can do whatever she wants!” Bellatrix roared. “She waltzes in here like an innocent little girl who can impose on us because she has nowhere else to go, and now she’s bloody parading around like she’s better than we are because the Dark Lord suddenly—”

“You were never even _with_ him!” Narcissa countered. “As your _husband_ has often reminded you, you both have had affairs and yet you somehow managed to sweep everything under the rug because you recognized its temporary nature. That’s what an affair _is_ ; it’s not a marriage substitute! Why are you still harping on about this? What the Dark Lord does with his time is not up to us!”

“Don’t you patronize me, Cissy! I _love_ him! I _care_ about him! How the fuck can you talk down to me like a thirteen-year-old with an unreasonable crush?!”

“Because you’re bloody ACTING like it! Come on, Bella, how do you not see it? You’re so brilliant and powerful, but when it comes to him—”

“When it comes to him, I am his best asset! I always have been! How many times has he called _you_ his favorite, hmm?”

“He’s told you that because he knows it’s what you want to hear. You honestly believe that he _has_ a favorite?! All he cares about is having Death Eaters to do what he tells them!”

“And fucking that little bitch upstairs every other day.”

“Might it behoove you to talk to Alex about this? I agree that her entrance into this house was rather abrupt, but she doesn’t strike me as a slut. She’s...quite modest. She also seems apprehensive about the Dark Lord’s attention. Has that ever occurred to you? She’s only eighteen and clearly inexperienced with men. Recognizing that might help ease your frustration, especially since she looks up to you. I’ll admit I’m not crazy about the girl, but I don’t agree with your assessment of her character.”

“I don’t care about her _character!_ It doesn’t matter how much she _likes_ me; she’s the reason the Dark Lord no longer comes to see me! She could get down on her knees and kiss my robes, but it wouldn’t make any difference! He’s been pulling away from me since the first day he saw her! There was _no_ mistaking the look in his eyes. I’m the only one here who’s been putting two and two together!”

“Again: you’re _married._ And not to him! I wouldn’t want you married to him, anyway; I don’t like the way he treats you, as I’ve been telling you for years. Rodolphus actually respects you for more than your looks and your abilities in battle. Does that not matter to you?”

“Stop downplaying how much this hurts!”

“I’m not downplaying your heartbreak! I’m trying to encourage you to move on from loving a man who will never reciprocate. _I_ love you. And I know that in his own way, Rodolphus does as well. Projecting your anger onto Alex will only—”

“Stop talking about her like she’s a _victim!_ I hear what she’s doing with him upstairs, in MY house, and she is NOT suffering! She’s enjoying every bloody second! Had I known how he would react to her before she came to live here, I would have slit her throat on the day she moved in! And I swear to Merlin, I will do just that if she stays here much longer. I’ll let her worthless little body rot in the basement and have Kreacher feed it to the birds. That’s what she deserves! I don’t care how much she—”

I couldn’t listen anymore. And my appetite was gone. Pressing my lips together and hastily wiping my eyes, I walked briskly back down the hall and raced upstairs to my bedroom. It was a good thing I had enough money to rent a flat of my own, because now I _really_ needed to get out. I cast a powerful locking charm on my bedroom door after climbing into bed, and prayed to no one that I would wake up in one piece.

* * *

I was unusually subdued during the next day’s training session. Narcissa had come by again to check on her distressed sister, making a point to keep the older woman away from me in the process. Though her attempt at standing up for me had been feeble at best, I still appreciated it.

The Dark Lord did nothing out of the ordinary; he merely guided me through the day’s lessons like nothing was amiss. His focused attitude helped me center myself a bit better. I hated to admit it, given how nervous I still was around him, but I now felt safer in his presence. Bellatrix wouldn’t touch me when he was nearby.

We then went upstairs to my room as per usual. Unfortunately, I couldn’t muster the required energy for sexual activity. When Voldemort grabbed the front of my robes and pulled me in for a kiss, I barely responded. Part of me wanted to share what I’d heard the previous night, and part of me wanted to forget it had even happened. Another part of me wanted to lash out, but fighting against someone as powerful as Bellatrix Lestrange was only asking for trouble.

He pulled away after a brief moment and narrowed his eyes. I stared at the floor and chewed on my lip, only looking at him again when he cupped my face in his hands and forced me to meet his gaze.

“You’re not acting like yourself today,” he remarked. “What ails you?”

I sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“That is not an acceptable response. Answer me.”

Glancing toward the door, I half-expected Bellatrix to burst through with a Killing Curse aimed at my heart. I was surprised when she didn’t.

“I...overheard something last night.”

“And what was that?”

“Bellatrix was yelling at Narcissa about...well, about us. She said that if she’d known how you would react to me when we first met, she would have—”

_Do I really want to say this out loud? Why can’t he just dig into my mind, like he always does, and be done with it?_

“She would have _what.”_

“She would have killed me before you had the chance to see me. She’s still in love with you, and she says it’s my fault that you no longer want her; that you left her for me.”

Rage flashed across his face. _Please don’t shoot the messenger,_ I thought for the briefest moment, until he spoke again.

“I’ll handle this. You stay right here.”

He turned on his heel and left the room to quickly descend the stairs. Even though he’d told me to stay put, I couldn’t help but sneak out into the hall to catch a whiff of the conversation. No one had ever _truly_ stood up for me before, and I loved the sharp thrill of anticipation that tore through me. I couldn’t miss this.

Once his footfalls had faded, I crept down the hall and flattened myself into the corner. No one downstairs would see me.

I heard the door to the parlor thrown open, followed by a few loud gasps. There was some shuffling around and muttering that I couldn’t decipher until the door slammed shut. And it sounded like someone had just been slammed against the wall. I craned my neck and saw that it was the someone who had recently threatened my life. The Dark Lord was grasping her shoulders and staring into her eyes, which displayed a mixture of blind adoration and naked fear.

“If you lay _one finger_ on my girl, I will torture you into madness,” he warned, enunciating his words softly but clearly.

“My Lord, I swear I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t _want_ to,” he interrupted, the silky tone in his voice belying the harshness of his words. “I don’t _want_ to irreparably harm that brilliant mind of yours. You have been my most loyal, and my most gifted soldier for years. Your ferocity is unmatched, and I would not wish to have to replace you. _However,_ your desire for vengeance—against a comrade who has done us _no_ wrong—has no place in my ranks. It is not your concern who I bed. And since you seem to be harboring illusions that our physical relationship was sentimental, I will remind you now that it was not. It was an enjoyable release for both of us, but nothing more. And it is now over. Go back to your husband and stop pining like a lost little girl waiting for her handsome prince to rescue her. You’re stronger than that.”

“But—”

“No buts. You want to please me, yes?”

“Always....” _Gee, there was no double meaning there. Not at all._

“So get ahold of yourself and move on. Be that ferocious warrior I’ve always known you to be. Stop this snivelling nonsense that is beneath you.”

I couldn’t see the tears streaming down her cheeks, but I could see the agony on her face and hear the shaky gasps she was clearly trying to suppress as she wept.

As betrayed as I felt after hearing her rant to Narcissa, a small piece of me felt sorry for her. I had been in her position once: loving a boy I had adored more than anyone in the world, who had strung me along for ages and then cut off contact like I’d never meant anything to him. Granted, he’d been an emotionally broken soul afraid of his own feelings—very different from an evil overlord using sex as a form of manipulation—but I couldn’t completely blame Bellatrix for having fallen so hard. I knew enough about her childhood to discern why she, as smart and powerful as she was, could still fall prey to the charms of a man showing her the kind of attention she’d never received growing up.

It was strange to pity someone, but I saw so much of myself in Bellatrix that it almost felt like I was watching a piece of myself being punished for its wounds. I wanted to both slap her and hug her—a bizarre conundrum. I sat on the floor and rested my forehead on my hands, tuning out the harsh whispers and muffled crying from downstairs.

Where could I go from here? How soon could I get out? Was there anything I could say to Bellatrix to try and diffuse the conflict and remind her that I was not the enemy? Perhaps if her homicidal urges could be redirected toward the Dark Lord’s adversaries, we’d all fare better.

I stayed there for a while, resting my eyes and trying to formulate a plan. Nothing was sticking.

When I opened my eyes, the first image to greet me was a pair of black loafers. I jerked my head up and saw the Dark Lord standing inches in front of me. And he did not look pleased.

“What did I just tell you?” he scolded. “Right after I defend you to someone who would love to see you dead, this is how you thank me? Disobeying a simple order?”

He reached under my arms and pulled me to my feet before grabbing my wrist and marching me down the hall. Once inside my bedroom, he slammed the door and locked it.

“Explain yourself, young lady.”

“I—I just wanted to hear what happened. No one’s ever stuck up for me before, and the thought of witnessing that was...kind of thrilling.”

“And you didn’t trust me to relay the conversation to you afterwards?”

“It wasn’t that; I just wanted to hear it for myself.”

He stared me down for a moment, his lips pressed into a firm line. What was he thinking? Was he about to punish me? How badly?

“I’ll allow it,” he stated firmly, “just this once, given the circumstances. But should you ever defy me again, I will be forced to punish you. Being mine does not absolve you of your responsibilities to me, or render you immune from following my orders. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Good.”

Neither of us spoke for a few minutes; he appeared too miffed and I was itching to change the subject. I did my best to slow my thoughts until something concrete came to me.

“I can’t stay here,” I confessed. “I don’t feel safe here anymore. Even though you just told Bellatrix not to hurt me—”

“You don’t have to stay here. You’ll come and live with me.”

I stared, not believing what I was hearing. “Oh! You—you don’t have to do that. I’ve finally got enough money saved to rent a flat, so I’ll likely be out of here in a few weeks, tops.”

He flashed me a mischievous grin and shook his head. “You misunderstand. I’m not offering you temporary shelter; you’re _moving in with me_. This is permanent.”

The temperature dropped suddenly. “....Permanent?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

I sat on my bed and gripped the comforter in both hands, staring pointedly at my knees when the Dark Lord approached me and placed his hands on mine. He brushed his lips across my cheek and kissed my neck a few times.

“You must accept this,” he murmured in my ear. “Regardless of my desire to keep you close, you said it yourself: you have nowhere else to go. Why fight me over it?”

“I—I’ve been working and saving up money for the past year so that I could finally be independent. You don’t have to—I won’t lie, I’m a bit intrigued about the thought of living with you, but I think that might be rushing things a bit. I really need to spend some time living on my own first, so I can—”

“You don’t have a choice. This is not a negotiation. You’ve proven yourself worthy as a Death Eater and as my partner, and I see no sense in delaying further. I’ve wanted you for a very long time; this is not a decision I’ve made flippantly.”

My heart pounded. I couldn’t feel my face, and my head felt lighter as the truth crashed down on me. This was not a tawdry affair that would fade out over time—the Dark Lord was deadly serious about me. But I wasn’t sure how serious I was about him.

“You’ll grow accustomed to living with me as time passes. I realize it’s a bit of a shock to you now, but you’ll adjust. You always do.”

“It’s, um...I’m overwhelmed.”

“If you can move in with strangers, you can move in with me. Unlike them, I actually respect and care for you. This should be a relief, not a source of discomfort.”

I regarded him for a moment, torn between getting swept up in his words and thinking critically about their meaning. I knew who this man was; if he was uttering pretty words, there was a reason—that was likely less than pretty.

“How do you define caring?” I countered, making sure to hold eye contact with him so as not to appear as intimidated as I felt.

He tucked my hair behind my ear and grazed my cheek with his thumb. “I revel in your loyalty and your dedication to serving me. I enjoy your company. You are a fascinating, brilliant girl and your passion for the Dark Arts nearly rivals mine. Does that definition satisfy you? Or should I use a more...physical one?”

I tried not to laugh or otherwise react to his last inquiry, and his cocky smirk, but I supposed that his answer was the best I could get from someone like him. It would have to be enough.

And though I told him as much, he still insisted on indulging his physical definition of caring. For the next hour.

* * *

I gave the apothecary my two-weeks notice the following morning. My boss had always been indifferent to me, and so there was no tension or regret in his voice when I left work that evening. A small comfort, given what was waiting for me at home.

The Dark Lord told me that I would not have to hold a job after moving in with him—he’d built his estate with magic as much as bricks, and so the structure was undetectable. My “employment” would now consist of Death Eater assignments and more rigorous Dark Arts training, the latter of which would span four days a week, for five hours a day. Though I wouldn’t be clocking in anywhere, I certainly had my work cut out for me. I would not be taking a vacation anytime soon.

I began packing my belongings, which were mostly clothes and books and art supplies. The Dark Lord assured me that, as long as I behaved to his satisfaction, I would have plenty of time to continue my creative pursuits. My paintings might even adorn the walls of his house, he said. Despite my nerves, I did smile at the mental image.

The Lestranges appeared a mixture of shocked, disturbed, and relieved when I announced that I would be leaving Grimmauld Place at last. I hadn’t planned on telling them where I was going, but they figured it out on their own—especially with the Dark Lord being even more open about our relationship in front of the family. My discomfort was irrelevant, unfortunately. The family had no idea how to react. And quite frankly, neither did I. I knew that when the Dark Lord had been seeing Bellatrix, everything had been very hush-hush, and no one—least of all myself—had ever expected Voldemort to speak about such private matters in a relatively public space. At least I would be washing my hands of this awkward dynamic soon.

Bellatrix made herself scarce, but Rodolphus briefly addressed me the night before I left. I was packing the remainder of my things, wondering what my life would be like as the Dark Lord’s partner—hopefully easier than it had been as the Lestranges’ housemate and the main source of tension in their house. I opened my bedroom door upon hearing the knock, and saw Rodolphus standing there. He wished me luck in the future, and told me that I would have the house to myself when the Dark Lord came to collect me. I tried to hide my sigh of relief that I wouldn’t have to suffer through any awkward goodbyes that would really mean _good riddance._ The man of the house gave me a curt nod before disappearing down the hall. I returned to my packing.

My life may have been topsy-turvy from the beginning; but for the first time, it seemed that things might actually level out. I couldn’t afford to think otherwise. As menacing as the Dark Lord was, I could admit to a tiny sense of relief over the thought of moving in with someone who actually wanted me around. Sure, I would have to watch my tone and tiptoe around the man’s moods, but such behavior was old news. I was accustomed to ruthless self-regulation.

I was not, however, accustomed to living with a man who viewed me as something akin to an equal—but not quite. I had no idea how I would acclimate to such an environment, or how long it would take, but I had a funny feeling that I would eventually graduate from existing to thriving. I’d made it this far already; there was no need to doubt myself now.

After I closed my trunk and locked it, I realized that I was also closing a chapter of my life. I hoped that the next one would be better than the last.


	27. Chapter 5 Divergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tom is lying about having anti-Apparition wards and Alex flees to Hogwarts while he’s in the shower. The consequences are steep.

“If you’re not in my bedroom when I’m finished....”

The Dark Lord didn’t need to finish the threat, as I got the message from the tone in his voice and the expression on his face. I nodded and looked at the floor. After he swept past me, I padded down the hall to his room and reluctantly placed my wand on top of the bookcase. I didn’t want to be unarmed, but I knew that the Dark Lord would punish me if he saw me trying to defend myself from him—which would never work, anyway. He was too powerful.

I gingerly sat on the edge of the bed and clutched the towel around me until my knuckles turned white. I gazed forlornly at my wand, wishing I could Disapparate and return to Hogwarts. What would happen if I just...tried? Once? Surely he wouldn’t know, if he was focused on showering. What if I really _could_ Disapparate, and he had only lied about having anti-Apparition wards to scare me into subservience? Could I just stand up and attempt Apparition once? Could I be back in my dorm before he finished his shower? What would he do when he saw that I’d disappeared? Could he find me at Hogwarts? What would he do if he tracked me down there, and I told him that I promised I wasn’t trying to get away from him permanently; I just needed some time alone to think? How had he even found me in the first place? And what would happen if I waited too long, and he saw me reaching for my wand as he was entering the bedroom? He would surely kill me.

Maybe I should just grin and bear it. He did say he would let me go at the end of winter break, anyway, but what if I would return to school damaged beyond repair? He was the most powerful wizard in the world. He could do anything he wanted to me without any fear of repercussions. And as successful as I’d been so far in my study of magic—I was at the top of the class, on my own merit—I was still just a student. I was a kid. He was light years ahead of me.

_But, oh Merlin, could I try to Apparate only once, just in case? If it didn’t work, would he even know?_

My heart pounded in anticipation, but my indecisiveness paralyzed me. I was rooted to the spot. It felt like precious seconds were slipping through my fingers as I tried desperately to catch them and hold them in place, if only for a blessed moment. Time seemed to both speed up and slow to an agonizing crawl.

And then I shot to my feet. If there really were anti-Apparition wards, the Dark Lord wouldn’t even know if I’d tried and failed to escape—well, maybe he would after looking into my mind, but I wouldn’t have succeeded. And if he’d been lying about the wards and I’d missed an opportunity to flee, I’d be kicking myself for ages.

I could not be a sitting target.

Tightening the towel around my body, I grabbed my wand. I had only Apparated twice since receiving my license, but I couldn’t let my inexperience fell me now. This was life or death.

_Destination. Determination. Deliberation._

The Honeydukes cellar was probably my safest bet. It was at the end of one of the secret passages out of Hogwarts—a rarely visited place late at night—so it was unlikely that anyone would see me. But even if I did get caught, I wouldn’t care. I was in distress; dignity had quickly taken a back seat. Whatever the Dark Lord was planning would be much worse than a minor embarrassment.

With my eyes squeezed shut and a death-grip on my wand, I focused intently and soon felt a sharp tug behind my navel. I couldn’t breathe for exactly three seconds. And then my bare feet touched solid ground. A very cold solid ground. Boxes of candy surrounded me on all sides.

A split-second thrill shot through me as I realized I had defied a monster and escaped. It was a relief to be away from that gigantic fortress in the middle of nowhere, where no one could find me. I climbed out of the cellar and into the secret passageway, and broke into a sprint.

I ignored the bitter cold making my teeth chatter and raising goosebumps on my body; my determination to find safety outweighed my physical discomfort. All that mattered was that I return to school. I would be protected there. Though most of the school’s occupants had left for the holiday, the castle still housed more people than the Dark Lord’s mansion did—and I could actually get help. There was no way the maniac would destroy the school just to take me back; I wasn’t _that_ important to him. He would sooner cut off his own foot than harm Hogwarts.

I was too afraid to slow my pace, even to cast a warming spell, but I had to admit that running was maddeningly difficult in bare feet on the frigid stone floor. And my terror certainly didn’t help. My heart thumped as I gripped my towel for dear life, tearing down the dark passageway like my life depended on it. Which it probably did. If I had remained in the Dark Lord’s bedroom, he might have tortured me enough to kill me—either through the Cruciatus curse, or through raping me until I bled out. The man’s rage knew no bounds.

At last, I arrived at the castle. And just like in the Honeydukes cellar, it didn’t even occur to me to feel self-conscious about being seen in nothing but a towel—which, somehow, didn’t happen. The halls were deserted. A few portraits murmured at the sight of me, some muttering words like _slag_ and _no modesty_ and _how inappropriate,_ but I couldn’t have cared less.

I stopped to catch my breath after I’d raced about fifty feet down the corridor. Though I was still scared, my nerves had calmed considerably. I was inside the place where I felt the most at home. The safest place in all of magical Britain. Everything was all right now.

I wondered if I should run to the infirmary or back to the Slytherin dungeons. If the latter, I could be alone in my bed, burrowed under the blankets and sheltered from the elements. If the former, however, I’d get whatever medical care I needed from the exposure...but I would also have to invent a story about what had landed me in such a bizarre state. I wasn’t sure I had the brainpower to do that right now. Perhaps I didn’t even need medical care, anyway—just a warm blanket and a good night’s sleep. I turned left and hurried toward the dungeons.

Once in my dorm, I shed my towel and cast a warming spell. I slid my hands across my naked body, feeling for any injuries I may have sustained during my escape. There was a scratch on my left shoulder, and I found a few cuts and bruises on the bottom of my feet, but those were easy fixes. I performed the necessary spells to heal my wounds, set my wand on my nightstand, and climbed into bed. Drawing the curtains felt a more protective gesture than one of privacy—alone in my dorm, there really was no need for me to cocoon myself even more, but I still felt compelled to do so. My subsequent sigh of relief was so loud, it was almost a moan.

Pulling the comforter over my head, I closed my eyes and sank into the mattress. I was still shaking, but not as much as before; I figured that I would warm up even more now, under the blankets and no longer terrified. My tremors had resulted from physical and emotional distress, both of which were rapidly diminishing. Now that I was back where I belonged, I could finally take some time to process everything that had happened since I’d arrived in Knockturn Alley.

I had gone there to begin networking in the Dark magic community, feeling my way around that corner of Wizarding society to see where I would fit. I had expected to return to Hogwarts with a Dark Arts book or two, and a few names of people I might befriend. Instead, five minutes after I arrived there, Lord Voldemort had kidnapped me. He had then molested me and insisted that I wanted such treatment, before threatening further harm if I hadn’t sat in his bedroom like a helpless fairy while he showered, waiting for him to simply do whatever he wanted to my body.

I still had no idea why he wanted me, how long he would retain his bizarre interest, or if his attraction was strong enough that he would try to seize me again. Remaining at Hogwarts was the most logical solution. That would likely mean no more Hogsmeade visits for a while, to avoid being out in the open. My friends might wonder why I had suddenly become even more reclusive than normal, but I didn’t owe them an explanation. And their ignorance to my situation would be a blessing for all of us.

Surely, if I remained out of Voldemort’s reach for long enough, he would give up and realize that I wasn’t worth the effort. What did he even want with me, anyway? If he was merely sexually frustrated, couldn’t he call on one of his female Death Eaters? Being as handsome and charismatic as he was, I imagined that at least a few of his soldiers had developed a crush on him. A grown woman, who actually wanted him, would likely satisfy him more than a terrified teenage virgin who wanted no part in his bedroom activities. I shuddered at the thought of the fate I had just escaped—narrowly, of course, but I had succeeded all the same.

I breathed another sigh of relief. My body was relaxing more and my thoughts were now slowing—sleep would come soon.

_Creeeeaaakk._

I bolted upright at the sound of the door opening. Who was here—a teacher? Madam Pomfrey? None of the other seventh-years had remained at school for the holiday. Someone might have come down to the dungeons to check on me, after having seen me dashing through the castle like a madwoman. I’d never heard of a “house call” at Hogwarts, but I’d certainly gotten into enough scrapes to garner myself a rocky reputation. Perhaps this time—

Pale hands violently pulled the curtains apart. My mouth went dry and my stomach dropped.

“Well, well, well. Aren’t you the very picture of defiance.”

The Dark Lord stood over me, his eyes flashing and nostrils flaring.

My breath caught in my throat. I gaped like a fish out of water while he quietly drew my curtains and sat cross-legged on my bed. I glanced around, pulling the blankets tighter around my body and scooting back as far as I could. Voldemort miraculously allowed this.

“How—how did you get in here?” I stammered.

“The same as you,” he replied flatly. “Except that I employed a warming spell and a Disillusionment charm, which allowed me to walk through the halls at a more leisurely pace—the way I did when I followed you in Knockturn Alley yesterday evening. You clearly haven’t learned much about the scope of my powers, seeing as you think a simple Disapparition can shield you from me.”

I looked around again. If Voldemort was daring enough to come to Hogwarts, where Apparition was impossible, then maybe I could make a scene and someone would come to investigate. And maybe he would end up outnumbered.

“I have placed a Silencing spell on this room. You’re welcome to scream as loudly as you want; no one will hear you.”

My face fell. Merlin, he really did plan for everything.

Damn it, I’d spent so many years wanting to join this man’s ranks! I’d rehearsed countless imagined conversations with him, I’d researched the Dark Arts for years, and I’d allowed myself to get all excited about the possibilities. But after everything he had done to me, I suddenly wasn’t so sure I wanted to join him at all. I hated that a part of me felt sad over such a concept—I’d always fancied myself on his side. I’d looked up to him for so long. Now, not so much.

It suddenly felt like all my years of secret research were for nothing. Had I known what the Dark Lord actually would do the first time we were face to face, I likely wouldn’t have even gotten to the point of _planning_ to go to Knockturn Alley; I would have either ceased my Dark Arts research ages ago, and tried even harder to blend in with the student body so as avoid standing out and catching this man’s attention. Though he had paid me several compliments while teaching me the Dark Arts today, I still felt like everything I had worked for had gone to waste. This was not the fate I had imagined. A lump formed in my throat.

“W—I just...why? _Why?_ All of this—you taking me from Knockturn Alley, chasing me back to school—why? What do you want?”

“You.”

“But you could have anyone—”

“I know. And I only want you.”

“But—badly enough to risk being seen at Hogwarts? Do you know how many people here want you dead or imprisoned? How am I valuable enough to you that you’ll risk—”

“I have risked nothing. You, on the other hand, have risked everything. You are gambling with your life by disobeying me so brazenly. Tell me, sweetheart, what exactly made you think you had the right to leave my home? How did you rationalize your behavior?”

“I—well, I just didn’t...I mean, I wasn’t trying to get away from you _permanently;_ I just needed some time alone to think. This is a lot to absorb and I’m overwhelmed. I’ve only ever wanted to be your Death Eater; not your, well— _this_. I don’t understand why you want me and why the urge is so strong that you had to do all this....”

I trailed off, once more shrinking under his stare and caving into myself. I didn’t know why I thought that pulling the blankets up over my bare shoulders would offer me any protection, but I supposed my nerves were so frayed that my primal instincts were working of their own accord.

I jumped when the Dark Lord reached out and tilted my chin up. His touch was gentle, but I knew better than to think him calm and composed. There was a raging hurricane behind his stoic exterior—a hurricane that would likely suffocate me within minutes. I could only hope that I would live through the aftermath.

“What do you want?” I asked again, my voice barely audible.

“I just told you. Why do you need me to say it again?”

“I—I meant, what do you want with—well, _why?_ Why do you want me, and what do you want _with_ me? And for how long? Do you only want a bit of—”

He scoffed. “You think this is a mere flight of fancy? You think I would have come all the way here if you were nothing to me but a quick release?”

“Well, I asked because I wasn’t sure if you—”

“You have gone to greater lengths than anyone to prepare yourself to join my service. You have spent years reading and researching all avenues of Dark magic and Dark Wizarding society, breaking school rules and risking expulsion simply from determination to impress me. You are more valuable to me than you realize, and more formidable than all of your peers. I told you this morning that I would make you the most powerful Dark witch in the world—a feat I’m sure you would like to achieve, both for my approval and for your own gratification. I want you by my side as you hone your skills...and beneath me as I ravish you every night.”

I shuddered.

“I _will_ have this, Alex. You are as beautiful as you are capable; no one else deserves to possess you. I will have your obedience, your trust, and your loyalty. I will have you as devoted to me as I am to you. You belong to me, and nothing you say will convince me to release you. _Nothing._ ”

I shook my head, not believing what I was hearing. “Are you saying that you want to have a...monogamous relationship with me?”

“Yes.”

Time stopped. My body froze. I couldn’t breathe, speak, or even blink. Had I really heard him right? Was he really sitting on my bed, stroking my face, and speaking to me like I _mattered_ to him?

“Unfortunately,” he continued, sounding not the least bit disappointed, “as precious as you are to me, your disobedience must be addressed. I cannot allow you to defy me and believe you will escape unscathed. You will now accompany me back home, with _no_ resistance, and accept your punishment. Any more defiance will result in grave injuries that I may or may not allow you to heal. I imagine that after all you endure this night, you will behave properly without any more hiccups—and you will be grateful for my leniency in sparing your life. No one else in your position would still be alive—come the morning, you will better understand your value to me.”

“I—”

“Do not protest; I am in no mood to hear it.”

My face fell. “If you really value me, then why are you going to hurt me? I promise I wasn’t trying to disrespect you when I came back here; I just needed some room to breathe. I wanted to take some time alone to sift through everything and figure out how I feel about it all...and...how I feel about _you._ There’s a big difference between flippant disrespect and, well... _terror._ Do you—can you understand that? Does that...make sense to you? I can’t just snap my fingers and become attracted to someone.”

“There’s no need to explain yourself; your thoughts speak for themselves.” His eyes narrowed. “And I must punish you so that you will know your place. You will soon understand it thoroughly.”

“My...place?”

“Yes. In front of others, I will treat you like a queen. I’ve spent much time imagining parading you around in full view of all my followers, showing you off as my prized possession. However, you must also obey me without question when we are alone. You will speak politely, you will follow my orders, and you will give me your body whenever I require it. Now, despite my confidence in your ability to adapt, I must impress upon you the severity of your transgression. Your value to me does not render you invulnerable: any repetition of this evening, and you will die. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, my Lord...I’m—”

“Not a _word_ of protest, Alex. _Not. One. Word.”_

“Yes, my Lord. I’m sorry.”

“Not yet, you’re not—but you will be.” He sneered.

“W-what?”

He stood up and pocketed my wand in his robes. “Retrieve your towel; no more dawdling. We’re going home.”

I hated having to walk naked across the room, feeling Voldemort’s hungry gaze trailing over my body, but I was out of options. I tentatively reached down and picked up the dark green material, wrapping it around me as quickly as possible.

The Dark Lord was beside me in an instant, tightly gripping my wrist before I’d even stood up completely. The tip of his wand touched my head, and the sensation of melting ice trickled down my spine. I squirmed.

“The result of a Disillusionment charm, sweetheart,” he drawled, answering my unspoken question before rendering himself as invisible as I was. “It’ll wear off in ten minutes.”

Though I couldn’t see him, I could feel the Dark Lord silently pulling me out of the Slytherin dungeons and into the open hallway. My eyes moistened and my heart raced—what punishment did he have planned? How much would he hurt me? How long would it take me to recover, physically and emotionally? And could I ever be content as his partner? Merlin...how had I gone from pondering dying a virgin to being captured by a man who wanted me so desperately, he was willing to abduct me twice just to keep me?

I was on autopilot, mentally far outside of Hogwarts while the Dark Lord pulled me through the deserted hallways and back into the frigid secret passageway that led to the Honeydukes cellar. Once there, a tug behind my navel signaled the beginning of Apparition. I closed my eyes until my bare feet touched solid ground once more.

We landed exactly where I’d been before fleeing: Voldemort’s bedroom. It looked almost exactly the same. The only difference was a smashed water goblet by the wall—likely the result of the man’s fury upon discovering my disappearance.

The icy sensation in my spine soon faded, and I could see both myself and the maniacal Dark wizard still gripping my wrist. He pulled me close, placed a soft kiss on my hand, and withdrew. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes—the storm was about to break.

“Sit.”

I reluctantly sat on the edge of his bed, twisting my fingers in the comforter as Voldemort bent down and leaned in close. He gripped my hands and held tightly, preventing me from fidgeting any more. His breath was a soft breeze on my face, controlled and menacing at the same time—a predator ready to strike. I stared pointedly at his robes to avoid his gaze.

The predator brushed his lips across my cheek, nipped at my earlobe, and inhaled deeply while kissing his way down my neck. My body locked. I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Look at me.”

I opened my eyes to see the Dark Lord’s face inches from mine. My face warmed. Was he about to kiss me or curse me?

“What a shame,” he remarked in that mocking tone he’d used in my dorm—pretending to feel deflated when he was about to gleefully indulge his sadistic urges, as if he had no choice. “This was supposed to have been a wondrous night for you.”

“For _me,_ or for you?”

“For both of us, love. You might not have verbally admitted your enjoyment, but you would have liked it all the same.”

“H-how?”

“I was planning to pleasure you for a solid hour, at least. You would have been splayed out right here, blushing and moaning while my hands and mouth traveled down your body. I was going to spend a decent amount of time kissing your skin...licking...biting...figuring out what you enjoyed the most. You’d have been so desperate for relief, you would have spread your legs wider before I even put my mouth in between them. Think about what I did to you this morning; about how you had to grip my hands as your body shook. Now, imagine that lasting ten times longer.”

I flinched at his words, and the fire in his eyes. And that haughty smirk. The cold air suddenly didn’t feel so cold anymore.

“My words arouse you.” 

I looked away again, cursing myself for the explicit images now flashing through my mind...and the dull throbbing ache suddenly building in between my legs. How in Merlin’s name was I heating up? Why was I allowing such visualizations? I didn’t _want_ this!

“However,” he continued, “as I informed you in your dormitory, you will not be receiving such a gift tonight—not unless you accept your punishment without rebelling. I cannot guarantee one outcome or another; this all depends on you.”

“W-what are you going to do?”

“Lie down.”

“Can I—”

“The less you protest, the more I will reward you after your punishment is over. _Lie down.”_

Biting back a shudder, I inched backward and reclined, resting my head on the cool, satin pillow case. It would have felt lovely, were I not shaking with fear.

“Stop grabbing at the towel; it will not save you. Place your arms over your head and arch your back.”

I complied, biting my lip to try and stop it from quivering. The Dark Lord unfolded the towel, and then yanked hard to pull it away. The friction made me jump.

But the friction I should have worried about was the one from the ropes that were now binding my wrists and ankles to the bedposts.

“No....!”

Cold fingers roughly pinched my nipples. I shrieked.

“What did I just tell you? Stop resisting. That includes words as well as actions.”

_Oh, god. So what am I supposed to do—just lie here and take it?_

“Yes,” Voldemort snapped, having read my thoughts yet again. “Like you would have done already, had you not run away like a rebellious child.”

“I—I’m sor—”

_“Crucio.”_

A high-pitched keening tore from my throat, sounding more animal than human. The torture curse flooded my body like a tidal wave of hot spikes, stabbing and twisting and burning my organs into charred remains. I knew that such terrible things weren’t actually happening—my body was intact and I wasn’t bleeding—but the pain rivaled that of my scariest nightmares. I wondered if I might die from the agony alone.

Without warning, the pain disappeared.

My body shook in the aftermath of the curse, my limbs twitching and jerking against their bonds as tears flowed down my flushed cheeks. My throat was raw.

The Dark Lord climbed atop me a moment later, still fully clothed. I wanted to keep my eyes closed to shut out reality, but I also couldn’t stand the thought of being taken by surprise again. If my punishment was not yet over, perhaps it would hurt less if I knew what was coming before it happened; I couldn’t brace myself for the unknown.

My eyes opened to see a stern face inches from mine. Voldemort looked into my eyes for a moment, and then began sliding his open mouth all over my cheeks to kiss the tears away. My head spun as conflicting thoughts battled for dominance—the sensations on my face were soothing and oddly erotic, but I wasn’t exactly enamored with their source. I debated relaxing and giving in, versus remaining a tightly-wound knot of tension anticipating another attack. The former was winning until a sharp pain seared across my left wrist.

I jerked my head to see what the Dark Lord was doing—something he clearly didn’t want me to see, because he yanked my hair to pull my head back. Unfortunately, I’d gotten enough of a look in that split second, and I knew exactly what was happening. The sadistic bastard was holding one of the shards of broken glass, which was now carving red lines into my wrist and up my arm.

Quite literally adding insult to injury, he was pausing to kiss each wound before inflicting a new one. I could hear his slow, heavy breaths through his nose, his airflow as rigidly controlled as his hand holding the glass. I counted seven slashes on my arm before he finally pulled the jagged shard away.

And then his bloody lips were on mine, his tongue trying to force my mouth open. I pressed my lips together tightly until a sting pierced the side of my neck. I gasped.

“Do not fight me, or I’ll slit your throat. I’ve had enough of your attitude.”

I reluctantly parted my lips and allowed the Dark Lord to slip his tongue into my mouth, trying to ignore the coppery taste. He moved slowly, allowing me to acclimate to the proper motions—this certainly wasn’t the first kiss I’d expected. The man was good at it; I could admit that. The act was almost calming. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it if he hadn’t kidnapped and tortured me first—and if he had allowed me time to decide if I actually could develop feelings for him.

Merlin, how fucked up was I, if I could even _entertain_ the notion of becoming attracted to this man? He had threatened to kill me—and still could, considering that he had not moved the glass shard away from my neck. And I couldn’t afford to anger him again. I dutifully responded to his kiss until he pulled away.

“How beautiful you are,” he murmured, “especially like this. I can’t express how much it arouses me when you scream.”

“W-what?!”

His response was to pin down my right arm and give it the same treatment as my left: seven slash marks punctured with mocking kisses in between. Blood was now dripping down my arms and onto the dark green comforter.

“Please!” I whimpered through my tears.

“Please what, love? You know what will happen if you resist.”

I clamped my mouth shut.

“That’s what I thought. You’re finally learning, it seems.” Still holding the bloody glass, he trailed hard kisses down my shaking body, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

“What are you—”

“Don’t worry; we’re almost done.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but another scream burst forth instead as burning pain erupted at the top of my left leg. It felt like the sting of the glass on my arms, but more powerful—the Dark Lord was certainly pressing down harder, but he was also taking his time leaving each mark on my skin; it didn’t feel like he was carving straight lines this time.

My eyes flew open when I heard the _clink_ of the glass hitting the floor. Was the torture finally over? Would I live through the night after all?

The blood dripping from my arms was at last beginning to harden. I studied the macabre image, wondering how long it would take my skin to repair itself, and how much it would scar. Or maybe Voldemort would actually allow me to heal my wounds with magic.

While I was pondering my fate, a sharp bite on my inner thigh jerked me out of my ruminations. I immediately looked down, and my eyes bulged.

I’d been correct in assuming that the Dark Lord had not carved simple lines into my skin. Even upside-down, I could read the letters clear as day:

**TMR**

“You belong to me,” he declared. “After your gross misbehavior this evening, it seems only fitting that I mark you to remind you of my ownership. I trust that my message has...sunken in?”

“Yes,” I whispered, blinking away another round of years. “I’m sorry....”

“Of course you are. Do I have your word that you will not defy me again?”

I stared at the ceiling. “Y-yes, my Lord....”

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

I reluctantly looked downward and repeated my promise. Voldemort seemed satisfied.

After licking my newest wound, he crawled back on top of me and kissed me again, more firmly this time. The gesture felt surprisingly passionate, with him cupping my face and stroking my cheeks as he pressed his mouth against mine. I almost allowed myself to relax. Almost.

“Mm, you certainly are learning,” he praised. “Perhaps you have earned a reward after all.”

I gasped.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“What do—what kind of reward?”

“Just lie still. Let me take care of you now.”

As if I could do anything different while tied to his bed.

He stood up to disrobe, and then climbed back on top of me. He kissed my face, my neck, and my arms, all while massaging my breasts. I wasn’t sure what to make of his gentle behavior; after all the torture, I was waiting for another bloody wound to form on my skin.

“Relax,” he whispered. “I’ll not hurt you again, as long as you obey me.”

Ironically, I was now afraid of being unable to relax—it was an order, and the Dark Lord would be incensed if I didn’t follow it.

“Oh, no, you’ve misinterpreted me again,” he drawled. “Don’t take my suggestion so literally; I merely meant that you should take a moment to center yourself before I reduce you to shaking and panting and begging for more.”

_Now I DEFINITELY can’t relax._

A light chuckle against my lower belly signaled the end of my failed calming period. Seconds later, soft kisses and bites were trailing up my inner thighs. My pelvic muscles clenched.

“You _are_ ready for me, whether you want to admit it or not,” the Dark Lord taunted, his voice muffled as his mouth pressed against the sensitive skin in between my legs. He slipped his arms under my thighs, just like he’d done that morning, while placing hard, lingering kisses all over the throbbing pink flesh. His deep inhalations, as loud as his kisses, made my stomach turn. 

“Your scent drives me wild,” he murmured, “almost as much as your taste.”

I struggled not to cry again. My head was spinning over the juxtaposition of the sexual stimulation and the stinging pain in my sliced-up flesh—both from the cuts and the rope burn. These two opposing forces were not meant to go hand-in-hand—unless one’s bedfellow was the most dangerous Dark wizard alive, that is. Though he’d finished torturing me, the pain he’d inflicted was competing with that of the pleasure he was now delivering. The sensations were bleeding into each other, melding in a macabre counterpoint of sharp pain and rapturous delirium. My arms were throbbing in sharp agony, and yet my body was quivering in the Dark Lord’s hands. I squealed and grinded against his face as he sucked my clitoris, unable to stop myself from surrendering.

He remained latched onto me long after the shockwaves died down. And as much as I hated him for all he’d done in the past twenty-four hours, my physiology was silencing my logical brain. I gasped and moaned, not even trying to hide my arousal anymore—I spread my thighs wider and arched my pelvis off the bed, pressing myself against the warm mouth that was bestowing firm kisses and lavish licks. The Dark Lord frantically lapped at my flesh, breathing as heavily as I was while dragging me over the edge several more times.

I couldn’t look at him; the triumph in his eyes would have nauseated me even more. Still, part of me wanted to see his face, out of morbid curiosity—after years of feeling like an afterthought, there was a piece of me that was excited at the concept of arousing a powerful man and witnessing my impact on him. I also found it interesting that the Dark Lord even experienced sexual desire; he seemed too power-crazed to possess such a primal urge.

Clearly, my assessment of his physical needs had been incorrect.

As was my assessment of my physical pain—the ordeal was not yet over. The Dark Lord moved back up my body until we were again face-to-face, and then a harsh snap burst in between my legs. I whimpered.

“Now I _do_ need you to relax,” he murmured in my ear.

“I...I can’t—”

“If you remain tense, you’ll feel nothing but pain. Breathe and center yourself; this is as much for your pleasure as it is for mine.”

I took in a few shaky breaths, trying to avoid panicking. I probably wasn’t relaxing as much as he wanted, but he’d already wound me up enough that he could move inside me easily. I felt the fluid dripping down my thighs as much as the pulsing muscle moving in between them.

He slowed his pace after a few minutes, grabbed my face, and crushed his mouth over mine. He shoved his tongue into my mouth and began firmly massaging, practically forcing me to twirl my tongue around his. He gripped my head tighter and kissed me harder while forcefully driving into my body in a slow, steady rhythm. I moaned in his mouth and balled my hands into fists, returning his kiss with equal vigor and telling myself that I was only doing this to satisfy him enough to stop him from punishing me again.

He finally released my lips after a long moment, and began thrusting hard and fast. I growled in frustration until the pain began to subside. To my alarm—or my relief, I couldn’t be sure—I started to feel a ripple of pleasure with his every thrust. My cries of agony became cries of ecstasy, and I began forcing my hips upward to meet his. He moaned with me while gripping my bound wrists, pounding faster and harder until he spilled into me. I spasmed around him and whimpered as he bit my neck again before kissing it lightly.

We lay this way, in complete silence, until he ran his fingers over the ropes binding my wrists. The bonds disappeared. He slowly brought my arms down, kissing them as he did so.

The realization of what had just happened slammed into me, and I felt sick.

“You’re mine, Miss Halaway,” he growled directly into my ear. “You belong to me. You can’t fight me anymore.”

I turned my head to avoid his piercing gaze, but he grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him.

“You cannot turn away from me—in your body or your mind. Look at me.”

I reluctantly obeyed his command, blinking more slowly than normal to minimize the eye contact.

“What—what is it?” I whispered after a few seconds of squirming under the intensity of his stare.

“Am I not allowed to look at my gorgeous girl?”

I cursed the flutter in my stomach, and the goosebumps on my skin, when the Dark Lord began kissing my neck and rubbing my shoulders. When he gently nibbled on my nape, I moaned before I could stop myself.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Deny your attraction to me all you want, but I will always win.”

My breathing spiked again as his mouth moved up and down my neck, and more moans escaped my throat. I was panting by the time he finally rolled off of me and stood up. Retrieving his wand from the nightstand, he freed my ankles and then fingered the wounds he’d inflicted higher up. My breath hitched when the tip of his wand touched the inside of my left arm. Was he about to heal the wounds, or create more?

He traced his wand down my butchered arms, lingering on the slash marks as they closed and vanished. More tears sprang to my eyes—tears of relief this time. I’d hoped he would remove his initials from my leg as well, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards; he placed his wand—and mine—on his nightstand and then slipped under the blanket. I did the same.

I didn’t want to look at my bedfellow. After all he’d done, I wanted to simply lie on my back and look up at the ceiling, letting my thoughts drift until I fell asleep. The hand slipping under my neck told me I’d be doing otherwise—the Dark Lord scooted over and snaked his right arm around my stomach, rolling me over onto my side and pulling me against his chest. His left arm was now hooked around my shoulders.

The release of tension in my muscles surprised me; I could hardly believe that I found this position soothing.

“You’re mine,” he repeated. “You understand that now, yes?”

“Yes....”

“I’ll heal the wound on your leg tomorrow, perhaps—unless I grow too fond of it. I’ve not yet decided. It might not hurt for you to have a physical reminder of what happens if you disobey.”

Too weary to speak, I simply closed my eyes and drifted off to the sensation of warm lips kissing the top of my head.


	28. Deleted Scene 1, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a [very detailed] interaction Tom imagines having with Alex before he decides how to communicate his interest. Though this entire scene flashed through my head in ten minutes, it was so long that I split it into two parts.
> 
> **This is the only outtake told from Tom’s perspective.

_As I often did nowadays, I took a break from reading one evening when a delightful image wormed its way into my mind: Alex presenting herself to me shortly after finishing her education. I imagined her already having secured a job and a flat before graduating, so she wouldn’t have to return to America. Her relatives would have no idea that she’d already be considering the Death Eaters her true family—and they wouldn’t need to know. They didn’t deserve her._

_Of course I wouldn’t reveal my attraction outright; I’d treat her like all the others, acting mildly disinterested the first time she walked into Malfoy Manor with some Death Eaters with whom she’d recently become acquainted. “Who is this young lady?” I’d ask them, as if I hadn’t already been watching her in the globe for ages. It would not do to share my real opinion of her in front of the others. My private affairs were my business alone._

_She’d perform her initiation beautifully, of course; likely with more enthusiasm than most, given how severely her family had repressed her. Not only would she be attempting to impress me, but she’d also be indulging her inner demons more than she’d ever done in her life. With no chance of getting caught, and the possibility of a reward for her behavior, she wouldn’t be able to hold back._

_And I wasn’t sure how long I would be able to hold back._

_I pictured the day when I would finally begin to reveal my true intentions. It would be an ordinary Death Eater meeting—perhaps the first of the new year, when she’d already been a fixture at my table for months. I would pay her no special attention. I’d have been careful to never pay her special attention before, apart from a few leering stares when she wasn’t looking at me, so my words would catch her completely off guard:_

\- + - + - + -

“Alex, stay behind,” I ordered after dismissing everyone. And for the first time, I allowed my attention to linger on the girl for longer than what was considered appropriate. She shifted a bit and stared at her lap. Looking into her mind, I saw fear rising: she was wracking her brain, wondering what she could had done to anger me, and trying to figure out how to convince me not to torture her. She had no idea that any torture I had in mind would be far more pleasurable than the Cruciatus—as long as she cooperated, that is. But perhaps it would do to keep her anxious for a while. She’d be that much more eager to satisfy me.

I strode over to her when the last of the Death Eaters had filed out of the room, and ordered her to stand. She obeyed, gripping the arms of the chair as she rose. It appeared she almost didn’t trust herself to stay upright. I imagined her legs quivering beneath her robes.

“Yes, my Lord?” she asked quietly. “Have I displeased you?”

I smiled at her discomfort. “Oh, no. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Oh! I—what do you mean?” She tried to disguise her huge sigh of relief as a slow exhalation while pushing the chair back in place. It didn’t work.

“You have stood out to me since long before your initiation—I knew of your existence for over a year before you first strode into this room with your comrades, and I could not believe my good fortune when you presented yourself to me of your own accord.”

“What do you mean?”

“I already knew of your secret desire to join me. I knew of your fierce determination to set out on your own without your family’s blessing. And, of course, I knew all about your research.”

“My—my research? What are you t—”

“Your Dark Arts research, love. I know all about your forays into the Restricted Section. An admirable task, that. With such determination, I must say that you have captured my attention far more than anyone to come before you in several years. Quite a feat.”

She paled. “How—”

“The ‘how’ is irrelevant. That’s not what we’re discussing. See, you have always intrigued me far more than you realize. Out of all my followers, past and present, not one person has gone to the lengths you have to prepare yourself to join my service. Many have joined out of obligation—family name, blood status, the friendships they’ve cultivated with other Death Eaters—while others have joined me for selfish reasons. Take Fenrir, for example: a proud werewolf who wants any excuse to indulge his animalistic nature and avoid punishment from the Ministry. He masks his bloodlust as a desire to please me. Truthfully, I don’t care what people’s motivations are; as long as they all obey me and remain loyal, their true aims don’t matter.

“Be that as it may, you are the only person who has spent years preparing yourself to join me, fretting about my opinion of you and whether you possessed the skills I require of my ranks. You are the living embodiment of irony: you’re one of the most capable soldiers I have, and yet you doubt your value to me—more than any of the others. Sure, they all fear that I will kill them if they fail to complete their assignments; but _your_ fear is that you’re not up to snuff. You risked expulsion from Hogwarts to simply find forbidden information—information that I teach everyone in the group—and yet you constantly worried that you somehow weren’t doing enough. Sometimes, even now, you still fear that I will see you as nothing but a joke. I find this quite humorous.”

_What is he getting at?_ she wondered, though she dared not speak her thoughts aloud. Some small part of her already had an inkling of my intentions, but she was too scared to acknowledge it—for now, that is. She wouldn’t be able to deny the facts when I had her pinned beneath me.

“The point I’m trying to make is that I find you far more remarkable than you realize. You have captured my attention in a way I cannot say I’ve experienced before. All together, your fierce loyalty, your tenacity, and your blindness to your worth to me create an interesting package that I find myself wanting to dissect. I believe we have much in common, and I’d like to explore this outside of meetings. Starting tomorrow.”

“W-what happens tomorrow?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary until you leave work.” I closed my fingers around her left wrist and lifted her arm.

“What are you—”

She trailed off when I rolled back her sleeve and stroked the skin around her Dark Mark. “When you arrive home after your shift, summon me. And make sure your curtains are drawn, so no meddlesome neighbors will be able to see your house guest.”

Before she could ask the exact purpose of my impending visit, I drew her arm closer and placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. Her lips parted and her eyes widened as the truth dawned on her. She looked like she wanted to protest, but I cut her off.

“That is an order, you know,” I reminded her as I stepped in closer, still holding her wrist, and rubbed her cheek with my free hand. She flushed.

Once she’d promised to obey, I released her and allowed her to leave. She all but ran out of the meeting room.

I couldn’t wait to see how she would react to my presence in her home. Outside of her initiation, she’d never had my undivided attention for more than a few seconds—and even then, not without several pairs of eyes watching the exchange—so I could only imagine how her demeanor would shift without the cushion of a crowded room.

* * *

It was hard not to grin as I watched Alex in the globe the following evening. She Apparated home from work at six o’clock sharp, and immediately began fussing around. I could almost hear the questions tearing through her mind as she Vanished the snow from her boots and changed into a pair of simple black flats: _was her home clean enough? Should she don a different outfit? Was her appearance appropriate? Would I be offended if I found her presentation unacceptable? What exactly did I have planned for such a personal visit? Was she safe?_

After standing still for a few minutes, tightly grasping her kitchen counter while taking several deep breaths, she bit her lip and pressed her fingers to her Dark Mark. I wasted no time.

I landed in her kitchen in a cloud of black smoke. She quickly bowed her head, both in deference and in an attempt to hide her discomfort.

“Good evening,” I drawled as I lifted her chin. “As always, it is a pleasure to see you.”

“Good evening, my Lord,” she replied quietly. I didn’t think I’d ever heard her speak so softly, and I quite enjoyed the fear in her voice. I could have fun with this.

“Do you always leave your robes on after coming home from work? Surely, you can relax in your own flat, yes?” I wasn’t removing my own robes—not yet, at least—but I needed her to remember who held the upper hand. And I wanted to see her figure up close.

“Oh! I—I hadn’t thought about—”

I was already unfastening her robes and pulling them off her shoulders. “Much better,” I muttered as I hung her robes on the coat rack next to the front door.

She was wearing a long black skirt, and a snug black and silver tank top that hugged all the right places. Dark beauty personified.

“So, this is your humble abode,” I remarked as I looked around, after reluctantly tearing my gaze away from her body. “Give me a tour.”

“Um—okay. Well, it’s not much; this is obviously the kitchen, there’s the living room, and the—the bedroom and bathroom are beyond that door over there.”

“Show me.”

I wasn’t planning on taking her to bed so soon, as tempting as it was, but I also never underestimated the power of suggestion. I smirked at her faint grimace as she led me into her bedroom. Her thoughts were racing quite rapidly, in exactly the right direction, and terror was radiating off of her in waves. She struggled not to shake. And I struggled not to grow too aroused.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” I said flatly. Before she could protest, I walked into her bathroom and shut the door. I reached in my robes for the small stoppered vial I’d brought with me, to which I’d fastened a handwritten note with black ribbon, and quietly slipped it inside a drawer underneath the sink. I’d let her find it on her own later on.

“Are you—are you all right?” she asked timidly as I opened the door. Having heard no sounds since I’d entered the bathroom, she was undoubtedly wondering what I’d been doing in there. It was of no concern to me; she’d find out eventually.

“Never better,” I replied smoothly, and swept past her. As she followed me out into the main living area, she probably felt like she was the guest instead of the host, what with me already prowling around like I owned the place, but she would never voice her discomfort. She was too smart for that.

She’d spent so much time preparing to convince me that she was worthy of joining my ranks, but it had never occurred to her to think that I’d be interested in far more than her magical ability. I supposed her useless parents had instilled her self-doubt; and, as such, I could hardly blame her for needing to set out on her own so abruptly after finishing her education. At least she trusted her capability in _that_ regard.

Seeing as she was now free from Hogwarts and thus easily accessible, she was finally ready for me to mold her into a powerful Dark sorceress. She was well on her way, given all her prior research, but she needed more advanced training that only I could give her through private instruction. She’d serve me even better than she was already. I couldn’t wait to begin these lessons—some of which may or may not be of a more mature sort.

“When do you usually cook?” I asked as we reentered the kitchen.

“Not long after I get home from work.” She was still averting her eyes whenever possible, too afraid to look directly at me. She’d likely have reacted the same way even if I hadn’t been a Legilimens, gleefully sifting through her thoughts as she nervously toyed with her hair.

“Fair enough. So, what’s for dinner?” 

“Um—what would you like?”

I smirked, not once taking my eyes off her. “Surprise me.”

She nodded and began rummaging around the kitchen. Though she moved slowly and methodically as she prepared the meal, flourishing her wand when necessary, I could tell that she was struggling not to tremble. Her hands quivered slightly, she was breathing through her mouth, and her jaw was set. I had no doubt that she could feel my eyes roving all over her—an unfamiliar sensation. She was accustomed to being seen as scary or aggravating; not maddeningly desirable. She wasn’t sure what to make of my interest. More than that, though—she was afraid of how I might express it.

I folded my arms and leaned against the cabinet, cocking my head to the side as I continued studying her body language. “I must say, I have never seen you appear so fragile.”

She nearly dropped her wand as she whirled around to face me. “Fragile?!”

“Oh, yes. You normally speak with such crisp authority in your voice, and now your words are all breathy and soft. You can hardly look at me, your movements are careful and deliberate, and you’re breathing much faster than normal. This is so unlike you. I must say, though, I find it quite entertaining.”

She pressed her lips together and turned her attention back to her cooking. I observed her for another moment, sneering as I saw the fear and indignant rage swelling in her mind, before delivering the next punch.

“You’ve never caught a man’s attention before, have you.”

She shook her head.

“Alex, you will look at me when I speak to you.” My tone was no longer playful, and she knew it.

Her shoulders slumped as she turned around and finally met my gaze.

“Yes, my Lord. And—no, I haven’t.”

“Quite shocking.”

“Why?”

“First of all, you are a ravishing beauty; surely, you know this. You have eyes. Second, you’re not a romantic idiot like most girls your age, who are eager to fawn all over any dimwitted suitor presenting them with candy and fancy dinner dates and tasteless platitudes. Instead, you are full of intrigue and intelligence. You turn up your nose at shallow gestures of affection. Most men would appreciate that lack of superficiality, no?”

Her cheeks burned. “I—I don’t think so; men find me too intimidating. Some even jump a bit when I shake their hands. It’s a bit annoying, actually. They act like I’m going to hex them for looking at me the wrong way, but I won’t do anything if they don’t. I don’t get why they’re so wigged out.”

“I don’t find you the least bit intimidating,” I boasted, and extended my right arm. “Now, let’s see that handshake.”

Setting her wand on the counter, she smiled awkwardly before placing her hand in mine. I could see why some found the gesture surprising—her grip was quite firm; and most men likely expected a delicate limpness instead, especially given her small stature. Despite my jab over her current behavior, I knew there was nothing delicate about this girl.

She made to pull her hand back after a moment, but I only tightened my grip and sharply pulled her closer. She would have fallen against my chest—my intended plan—had she lacked the edge of the countertop to lean on and keep some distance between us.

“I will remind you that you are still following my orders,” I warned as I cupped her face in my hands. “You are not to fight against me.”

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” she whispered. “I meant no disrespect.” Her heart was beating faster now, as evidenced by the fluttering pulse in her throat, her heavy breathing, and her hand grasping the countertop. She wondered if I was about to kiss her or kill her.

“Why on Earth would I kill you?” I asked silkily, stroking her cheeks. “A girl as loyal and capable and beautiful as you—how could I take that for granted?”

“I don’t know; maybe if—”

“Will you talk back to me?”

“No—”

“Will you defy my commands?”

“No—”

“Will you betray me?”

“No, of course not!”

“Will you entertain other men when I’m not here?”

Her eyes widened even more. “Oh! I—I never actually thought about—”

_“Will you entertain other men.”_

She got the message. “No, my Lord.”

“Then I shall not kill you. You are safe with me as long as you defer to me. Stop worrying so much.”

My lips were on hers before she could think of a convincing argument.

I kissed her softly at first, sliding my tongue into her mouth and moving slowly. Though she’d never been kissed before, she’d clearly practiced the proper motions on her own—I could tell that she knew exactly what to do. She responded robotically; obediently. There was no unbridled lust in her response to me. But as uncomfortable as she felt, she wasn’t exactly miserable, either. She eventually began to relax, and slipped her arms around my back as I kissed her harder. I didn’t release her until I felt my self-control beginning to waver. It was too early for that.

I also didn’t want her to burn our meal, which was beginning to smell quite lovely. After planting a hard kiss on her neck, I turned her back around and told her to finish cooking. I contented myself with silently admiring the sight of her until she was finished.

She kept her gaze straight ahead while she set the two steaming plates on the tiny kitchen table.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked, only affording me a brief glance.

“What have you got?”

She looked like she wanted to kick herself. “Oh, I’m an idiot. I should have—I don’t drink alcohol, but I know that’s rare. I’m sorry, I should have bought something before I—”

She stopped talking when I held up my hand. “Water is fine, dear. I won’t torture you for lack of a bottle of whiskey.”

Chuckling quietly, she filled two goblets of water and placed them by the food.

“You must not entertain much,” I remarked as we sat down. “A small table, a small bed, no alcohol...it appears as though you’ve never had a single guest—” I inclined my head toward her bedroom. “—for any reason.”

“I—I haven’t. I’m not a people person.”

“Neither am I. Ironic, isn’t it? We want nothing to do with most people unless they’re useful; and yet, here we are, socializing. I can’t say I ever pictured myself engaging in such behavior before you captured my interest. You should be quite flattered, you know.”

“Thank you, my Lord. I do—I mean, I’m not accustomed to someone wanting to spend time with me like this. I’ll admit I’m not entirely sure how I’m supposed to act right now, but—”

“You’ll only have reason to fear if you disrespect me, as I said earlier. Just relax and enjoy your meal.”

She remained quiet while we ate, obviously thankful for the chance to keep her thoughts to herself, and yet completely unable to relax. She didn’t look at me once until we were done.

“Do you cook at home?” she asked as she cleared the table and washed the dishes with a flick of her wand.

“I could, but I don’t. I have house elves.”

“Oh, wow. How many?”

“Two. I’m very tidy, so they don’t have to work as much as, say, the Lestranges’ elf. Bellatrix and Rodolphus are more than a little bit messy.”

“I can imagine that,” she chuckled. “They do seem a bit...fiery.”

“So you are, dear. In a different way, of course: as quiet as you normally are, you have a daunting presence that speaks for you. You know this. And though you’re no match for me, it’s no wonder that other men find you so threatening.”

I stroked her hair a few times, relishing her tension, and then led her over to the couch.

“Do you mind if I take my shoes off?” she asked after sitting down. “I don’t put my shoes on the couch, so—”

“You may take off whatever you’d like. I won’t object.”

“Oh my god,” she whispered through a nervous laugh as she removed her flats.

“All black from head to toe,” I teased, gesturing to her painted toenails. “Why am I not surprised.”

“Yeah....” She smiled wanly and shifted to cross her legs under her skirt. “I like black.”

“And I like _you.”_ My tone was more biting than affectionate, and I could see her willing her body not to squirm.

“So...what do you—I’m not trying to sound rude or anything, I’m just—I’m just trying to understand. What do you...want? With me, I mean. I’m a little confused by all this.”

I loved that she always began stammering more as soon as I touched her—I had leaned forward and begun rubbing her knee before she posed her question. As awkward as she felt now, however, I knew she would soon grow accustomed to my attention. She would be clinging to me and begging for my affections before long. I could be patient in the interim.

“As I told you after the meeting last night, I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you in a more intimate environment, like this. I have never seen so much of myself in another person, and so I am both shocked and intrigued. This is a surprising turn of events for both of us.”

“I remember what you said yesterday; I’m just wondering...what your goal is. Forgive me if I’m being too bold, but I can’t believe that your motive is simple curiosity—or that I am entirely safe. I’m just trying to be realistic here.”

I studied her for a moment, still gripping her knee, torn between cursing her and ripping her clothes off. She didn’t trust me! What was her problem? Her paranoia was truly ludicrous, not to mention offensive.

I let her wither under my stare. Though she tried desperately to appear unfazed, I could almost feel her heart thumping—what would it be like if I cut her chest open just to feel the organ pulsing in my fingers as I crushed it? Given her resistance, I almost did just that.

But then I reminded myself that the girl _was_ valuable. As magically gifted as I was, I wouldn’t be able to resuscitate her after inflicting such a wound.

“I’m playing it by ear for the time being,” I finally replied, speaking as brazenly as she had. “This is the first time we have been alone, and it certainly won’t be the last. I do require your reverence, as in meetings, but I also don’t want you to be afraid to speak your mind. Behave respectfully, as you have done all evening, and I am confident that you will begin to enjoy my visits. I _know_ a part of you is having a blast right now, despite your apprehension—you’ve always wanted a powerful man’s interest. As such, that was quite a passionate kiss earlier; you can’t expect me to believe that your response was mere obedience. And I intend to repeat it at least once more tonight.”

Her cheeks reddened yet again.

“You _did_ enjoy it, love. You can’t deny that.”

“It was...nice.”

“It was far more than _nice,_ and you know it.” I squeezed her knee one more time before moving away and settling back against the cushions. “Also _nice_ is your choice in wall décor. Tell me about these paintings.”

“Oh, thank you. I made them.”

“You painted all of these?”

“I did.”

I stood up and strode around the living room to get a better look at her artwork. “A girl of many talents,” I muttered before turning back to her. “I’d like one or two for my own living room—and possibly my bedroom as well.”

She stiffened.

“What, you don’t want me thinking of you as soon as I wake? Before I fall asleep? You act like that’s never happened before—I can assure you, it has. Countless times.”

I folded my arms and watched her flounder for the right words. Merlin, was it cute. After a moment, I told her she could paint me whatever she liked—I couldn’t wait to see what she would create for me, and I wanted her to enjoy the process instead of viewing it as an assignment.

Only then did she relax. Later, upon my request, she brought out a sketchbook to show me, one of many that she’d filled during her summer art classes in America.

I sat close enough that our legs were touching; I wanted to be near her and also get a better look at her work, which was quite impressive. She attempted to hide her growing anxiety as I slipped my left arm around her and rubbed her shoulder. I stroked her right arm with my free hand, smugly noting the goosebumps blanketing the area. It took considerable effort not to sink my teeth into the soft, creamy flesh—I wanted to leave bite-shaped bruises all over her body.

Staring pointedly at the sketchbook, and trying her hardest to mask the quiver in her voice, she talked a bit about her drawings before turning each page. I commented occasionally, sometimes while kissing her hair, but I mostly just let her talk.

I’d been tracing patterns on her right arm for some time before we’d arrived at the end of the book. After she placed it on the coffee table, I grabbed her chin and turned her face toward me for another kiss. She was breathing a lot faster than she’d been in the kitchen, which I’d expected after riling her up for this long. I could only imagine how she’d react when I finally let loose.

In the meantime, this was enough. She sighed heavily as my mouth traveled down her neck, kissing and licking and sucking gently while I traced my fingertips along the edge of her top, which showed just a hint of cleavage. I imagined she was equally surprised by my attention and her own responses; she even moaned a bit when I reached into her bra and began massaging. I leaned over her now, kissing her throat while I continued exploring her breasts. Her nipples pebbled at my touch, and I couldn’t resist pinching them hard until she squealed. While her hands gripped her skirt, my teeth were clamped on her neck, leaving marks that would last at least a week. I hoped she would blush every time she saw them in the mirror, and remember how she’d moaned and rested the back of her head against my arm when I’d bitten her.

As tempting as it was to take her right there, I knew I had to stop where I was. She wouldn’t begin to crave my attention if she received it all at once. Anticipation was key.

Reluctantly removing my hands and mouth from her person, I sat a bit farther back and breathed deeply to center myself. She did the same, looking as bewildered as ever over her current state. Were I not so aroused, I would have laughed in triumph.

Once the stiffness in between my legs abated, I felt ready to continue the conversation.

Instead of idle chatter about her artwork, I began a more serious discussion to which I had alluded the night before: I wanted to find out exactly how much we had in common. We were both highly intelligent, dark, and intimidating, and I wanted to sift through it all with a fine-toothed comb.

I started by asking her when she’d first decided to become a Death Eater. She told me she’d always been fascinated by darkness, especially of the mind, and she’d wanted to read forbidden books since she was ten. Her choice to study the Dark Arts had preceded her decision to join me by about three years. Everything had unfolded in a natural progression as she’d gotten older.

Like me, she had grown up in a toxic environment. Though I had discovered as much from watching her in the globe, it was still illuminating to hear her perspective on her childhood and her view of the world.

Her interpersonal relationships were, for the most part, profitable transactions devoid of sentimental value. Rather like mine. She did have a slight spark of normalcy, in that she wanted a few meaningful friendships—but she didn’t give a hoot about people she didn’t know or like. I assured her that as long as she kept her softer side in check, I’d take no issue with it. That relaxed her a bit more.

I enjoyed hearing about how she navigated social situations, hiding in plain sight as she copied what everyone else was doing. Her presentation wasn’t quite as polished as mine, especially given that part of her _did_ enjoy the approval of like-minded individuals, but she was obviously adept enough at concealing her true nature that she could function. She had a job, she lived on her own with no assistance, and she had served me well since her initiation. She could read a room as well as I could, and slide through the crowd like a chameleon.

Even though I’d been itching to have this type of discussion with her for months, I was still surprised at how much I enjoyed it. She enjoyed it as well, responding favorably to stories from my Hogwarts days, and she began to speak more naturally as the conversation progressed. I even made her laugh a few times.

Over two hours had passed in this manner before I decided it was time to go home; leaving on a high note was essential. I thanked her for her hospitality as we stood up. While she placed our empty water goblets in the sink, I absentmindedly fingered the silk flowers in a small vase on her kitchen table.

“What is it?” she asked, tensing once more as she saw my frown.

“They’re _silk_ flowers. They’re fake. You should have real ones instead; these are tacky.”

“Oh! I—I guess I could pick some up from—”

“Don’t even think on it. We’ll talk more about it later.” I grabbed her face and placed a searing kiss on her lips. “I’ll be back soon,” I murmured in her ear before nipping it lightly.

“W-when is soon?” she asked, barely above a whisper since my face was still close to hers.

“A week. Same day, same time. Summon me when you get home from work.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

“Yes. I look forward to it.”


	29. Deleted Scene 1, part 2

I returned to her flat a week later, as promised. Though I’d wanted to visit much earlier, I knew I needed to give her time to miss me. Missing would soon turn to craving, and then I would have her ensnared.

In the meantime, I still had to work a bit harder to charm her. She was far from easy. I enjoyed the chase, however, so her stubborn hesitancy was of no consequence. With the help of my elves, I procured six red roses tied in a silver ribbon, which I presented to her upon Apparating into her kitchen. She was taken aback.

“W-what’s this for?” she asked timidly. Clearly, no one had ever tried to woo her before.

“I told you that you needed real flowers for that vase,” I replied with a sly smirk. “And these are as beautiful as you are.”

A quiet “wow” was all she could muster as she replaced the silk flowers with the real ones and filled the vase with water.

“I can’t say I ever expected you to be interested in romance,” she remarked, arranging the flowers to suit her liking.

“Who said anything about romance?” I scoffed. “I decided that you needed real flowers for that vase; and I know that red roses are your favorite flower, despite their tawdry symbolism. It seemed a practical gift.”

“Well...thank you, my Lord. I appreciate it.”

“You’re quite welcome. It’s not a problem. Perhaps I’ll even supply you with a steady stream of replacements as they wilt; I could get you all different kinds of flowers as well, if you’d like. Unless, of course, you prefer only red—like the blood spurting from your victim during your initiation.”

She giggled—a real laugh this time. There was no fear or nervousness behind it.

Matching her grin, I pulled her close. “I must say, that was quite a performance. One of the best I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure how many new recruits could top that.”

“I wouldn’t expect them to,” she replied playfully. I couldn’t help but kiss her.

* * *

She was more relaxed; more like herself. As much as I had relished her discomfort a week earlier, I couldn’t deny my enjoyment of her normal demeanor, which had attracted me in the first place. She slowly lost the soft, feathery lilt in her voice she’d used during my first visit, and grew less afraid of making eye contact. Though my gaze was more like pointed staring, which distressed her quite a bit, she seemed to be growing more accustomed to my intense focus on her.

The only time she tensed was when I snuck up behind her as she was cooking dinner. I slipped my arms around her waist and gripped her tightly, smirking at the sight of her wand clattering onto the counter.

“You’re still afraid of my attention,” I murmured in her ear, brushing her hair over her shoulder so I could kiss her neck. “You’re afraid of what I’ll do to you if you displease me—” My voice lowered. “—as well as the opposite.” I returned my arm to her waist and kissed her neck again. “I must confess that your fear excites me.” _Kiss._ “However, I do want you comfortable around me most of the time—” _Kiss._ “—because your boldness is quite alluring.” _Kiss._

“I—”

“Do try to relax, love. Act like yourself.” _Kiss._ “Enjoy the time we spend together. No man could ever satisfy you like I can, and you know it.” _Kiss._ “My interest in you is a testament to your value and capability. Remember that.” _Kiss._

I let her active imagination run wild with my words as I kissed her neck several more times, knowing that the images in her head—as well as mine—would come to fruition soon enough. Given her heavy breathing and shaky movements after I released her, my charm was working.

And though my appetite lay far outside the kitchen, I was still content to eat dinner with her a little while later.

* * *

It was another couple of weeks before she found the little present I’d left in her bathroom—rather, the Death Eater Sofia found it, when she had gone to visit Alex and excused herself to use the restroom after a few hours. The discovery, along with Alex’s reaction, had me chuckling quite a bit, given the substance of their prior conversation. Of course I’d watched the entire interaction in the globe, refusing to miss even one minute of this event. Only I knew that this was the first time Alex had ever socialized since leaving Hogwarts, outside of my visits.

Alex and Sofia had gotten friendly over the past few weeks, and decided to spend one Saturday afternoon together. Being as introverted as they were, the girls passed the time talking on the couch for a while. Later, Sofia plopped down on the bed while Alex sat a few feet away, working on her painting for me: an embellished green Dark Mark against a black and gray background. The mental health Healer wasn’t much of an artist, but she loved the idea of watching one in action, and so she was content to sit and watch Alex paint while they conversed. Alex enjoyed this arrangement as well, until Sofia started asking questions.

~

“Alex, I have to ask: what on Earth are you doing, painting a giant Dark Mark? Aren’t you worried about someone seeing it? If someone ever broke in....”

“It’s not for me,” Alex replied quietly.

“Ohh, is that one of your commissions?” Word of the girl’s artistic talents had spread among the ranks, and a handful of Death Eaters had paid her to paint for them.

“Yeah.”

“Who’s it for? I can’t imagine why any Death Eater would want to advertise their loyalties so openly.”

Silence.

“C’mon, tell me! Who requested that painting?”

“The Dark Lord.”

“Seriously?!”

She nodded.

“How—I mean...when did he ask you to do this? It seems like an odd request—coming from him, anyway.”

“Remember when he asked me to stay behind after a meeting in January?”

“Oh! Is that what he wanted to talk to you about?”

“Yeah. I was scared out of my wits, thinking he was about to torture or kill me...and instead, it was _Hey, paint me a picture._ ”

Both girls laughed.

“He told me to paint whatever I wanted, and so I figured he’d like a Dark Mark. This one is easy; but said he wanted two or three paintings, and I have no idea what I’ll do for the others.”

“Wow! That’s quite a project.”

They were quiet for a while, Alex painting and Sofia watching—I could tell from Alex’s facial expression that she was uneasy with Sofia’s line of questioning, but the Healer was as observant as ever. Alex’s discomfort was far from over.

“You fancy him.”

“What?! No! Why would you say something so—”

Sofia smirked. “If you don’t fancy him, then why did you start speaking so softly when I asked you about the painting? You looked so relaxed until that point, and now it’s like...you’re trying not to start fidgeting.”

Alex’s jaw sat firmly as she dipped her paintbrush.

“I’m not judging you,” Sofia chuckled. “Look, he’s hot. I’m sure a lot of our comrades are sweet on him. You don’t have to be so embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed; I’m just—this is weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“Your questions.” Alex tried to force a smile, but it appeared more like a snarl.

Sofia cocked her head to the side, studying her friend for a moment. “Are you sleeping with him?”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh Merlin, you totally are!” The Healer fell back onto the bed, giggling.

“I absolutely am _not!_ I can’t believe—”

“You absolutely _are_. Stop denying it!” She was still laughing.

“Sofia, I’m—I’m a virgin, okay?! I’m not sleeping with anyone!”

She sat up. “No way! A girl as pretty as you?”

“Why does that shock you?”

Sofia shrugged. “It just sounds surprising. Anyway, I need to use the loo. I’ll be back.”

Alex returned to her painting, shaking her head in bewilderment before her face settled back into neutral. She was lost in her own world for another moment, until Sofia’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Where are your tampons?” she called out from the bathroom.

“Middle drawer,” Alex replied. “You see them?”

“Yeah—wait, what’s _this?”_

“What’s what?” Alex’s brow furrowed.

“It looks like a—hang on, I’ll show you in a minute.”

Alex placed her paintbrush on the bottom of her easel, anxiously waiting to hear what Sofia had discovered in her quest for a simple tampon.

The bathroom door opened a minute later, and Alex shot to her feet. “What’s what?” she repeated.

“This.” Sofia held up the small vial with the handwritten note I had left her weeks earler. She had already untied the black ribbon affixing the parchment to the vial. “It says _You’ll need this later. It’s for your own protection._ Did you seriously not know it was there? It was under the box of tampons.”

Alex reached out and took the vial, turning it over a few times. “I’ve never seen that before.”

“You know what this is, right?”

“What? What is it?”

“It looks like a contraceptive potion.”

“WHAT?!” Her face was a mixture of shock and horror.

“Alex, how could this have gotten into your bathroom without you knowing about it? Who else has been here?”

Of course, Sofia already knew the answer to her own question—Alex flumped down onto the bed, eyes downcast. She knew her friend had her cornered.

“But seriously though, are you having some kind of affair with him or something?”

Alex bit her lip. “He’s—he’s been here,” she conceded.

“When?” Sofia sat beside the distressed girl.

“A few times.”

“To do what? If you’re really not sleeping with him—”

“I’m not! I just told you I’m still a virgin.”

“For now, at least!”

Alex rolled her eyes.

“Look, I’m not judging you. Do what you want. I’m just surprised.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“Really?” Sofia laughed. “Why?”

“I...don’t know how I feel about him.”

“Well, I can venture a guess how he feels about you.”

Alex squirmed.

“What do you do when he comes over? You didn’t tell me.”

“Mostly, we just talk.”

“Mostly? What about the rest of the time?” She nudged Alex playfully.

“Oh, shut _up_....”

“With that reaction, he’s obviously kissed you.”

The brief upward twitch of her mouth affirmed Sofia’s suspicions. She teased the girl some more, making whimsical predictions about the direction of her relationship with me, until Alex hit her breaking point and ordered her friend to stop with the jokes. She reminded Sofia that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with my weekly visits, but knew she had no choice in the matter and thus couldn’t stand her friend’s levity over the issue. She didn’t even know if she was allowed to reveal the existence of our relationship to others; and so now she shouldered the added fear of punishment, in addition to her apprehension over my physical behavior.

~

I’d likely not tell Alex that I’d witnessed this conversation for a while, if ever, but I would bask in her trepidation in the meantime. Truly, I didn’t care if she told every single Death Eater that we were spending time together, but she had no way of knowing that I was so lackadaisical about it. We’d never discussed the issue; that time would come later.

* * *

I’d been seeing her regularly for two months now. I increased the frequency of my visits to twice a week, growing impatient with her hesitancy over my attention, but confident that I could shatter her defenses soon. She was feeling increasingly relaxed around me, speaking with more of her usual clarity, and not stuttering too much anymore. Her gradual behavioral shifts were a joy to witness.

We talked about personal matters more than I’d ever discussed with anyone. Of course, she shared far more information than I did, but I suspected that might change over time if I deemed it necessary. For the time being, I was more interested in learning about her than revealing my own inner workings. She really was a fascinating individual.

She’d brought two goblets of water to the couch, and we’d paused our conversation after finishing. I declined her offer of a refill.

When she stood up to take our empty goblets over to the sink, I fought down a sudden surge of arousal—she’d been close enough that I could have pulled her onto my lap and peeled off her skirt in seconds when she’d gotten up. Should I have done it? No, I didn’t feel like worrying about shattered glass; she surely would have dropped the goblets in a fright if I’d grabbed her like that. I shifted uncomfortably as I stiffened inside my trousers, realizing right then that I was done playing the gentleman.

I moved over so that I was sitting where she’d just been—she’d therefore stop in front of me upon returning to the living room. Which happened exactly twenty seconds later.

“What are you—why did you move over?” she asked tentatively.

In response, I reached out and gripped her waist to pull her closer—I’d parted my legs enough to fit her between them. Her shins were pressed against the couch, with her taut stomach inches from my face. Leaning forward, I slipped my thumbs under the bottom of her snug tank top and slid it up a few inches. I left a trail of firm kisses all across her lower belly, holding her waist tightly enough that she couldn’t move. When I looked up into her eyes, her body locked in place. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

I pushed her top higher and higher until it was just below her breasts, all while kissing and licking my way up the newly-exposed area. I loved watching her facial expressions change as my lips traveled over her torso: I saw arousal, alarm, fear, and confusion. Perhaps she didn’t understand how I, of all people, could draw such responses from her, especially considering her suspicions of my motives, but she was heating up just as well. And the anticipation was threatening to unravel me. The tension in between my legs was close to bursting. I hoped she felt the same.

She was breathing heavily now, resting her hands on my shoulders. I almost pulled her down to bury my face in those luscious breasts, but I was having too much fun lower down. I also quite enjoyed the feeling of her fingers sliding through my hair; her nails lightly grazing my scalp. The titillating sensation sent shivers down my spine. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against her stomach as I inhaled slowly through gritted teeth—I needed to ground myself. She was almost ready. A few more minutes, a few more touches, and I’d have her exactly the way I wanted: aroused to the point of delirium. Knees quivering, pelvic muscles clenching, lips parted as she panted with need. Rather like my current state, but with less self-control.

My hands slid down and I hooked my fingers under the fabric secured at her hips. She was wearing another one of her long, flowy skirts, which only stayed in place via an elastic waistband, just like her knickers. Mercifully easy to remove. Just one _yank—_

No. Not yet.

Kissing her stomach once again, I moved my fingers to the front of her skirt, and pulled it down to expose the top of her pubic area. She gasped. I leaned down and pressed my open mouth to the smooth flesh several times, twitching as the heady scent of her arousal flooded into my nose. Gripping the fabric tighter, I looked back up into her eyes—though it probably appeared more like snarling. I didn’t care. I would speak freely now.

“I need to taste you,” I growled. “It is a physical craving raging through my whole body. You will not deny me any longer.”

Soft moans fell from her lips as I coaxed her thighs apart with my tongue. I was still holding her skirt in place—I needed to frustrate her as much as possible, despite her current lack of resistance. Her tightening grip on my hair proved the effectiveness of my technique.

She wasn’t the only one struggling. It took concerted effort to move my tongue slowly, softly tracing the slick folds before closing my mouth around the tiny nub in between them. Her thighs shook and she pressed herself against me. I allowed this until I could feel that she was seconds from release, when I pulled back abruptly. Her frustrated cries shot a pang of desire straight through me. I shoved it down as I licked my lips and stood up.

Glaring down at her, I grabbed her bare waist and swiveled her around, all but pushing her toward the bedroom. She didn’t need a second warning. I kept my hands on her the entire time as we walked.

She yelped when I violently shoved her onto the bed, but made no move to protest—in fact, she only scooted back to rest her head on the pillow. I wasted no time in peeling off her skirt and underwear, in that one vicious _yank_ I’d considered a few minutes earlier. The sight of her exposed flesh nearly brought me to my knees.

I didn’t even undress; I was in too much of a hurry. I’d waited long enough. I climbed onto the bed and shoved my face in between her legs, devouring her in a frenzy while gripping her shaking thighs to keep them spread wide. Merlin, she was delicious. I couldn’t stop. The feel of her soft flesh throbbing in my mouth, her warm essence flowing freely, her tight hole clenching around my tongue, her hands fisting in my hair as she moaned...nothing else mattered. My every muscle had gone rigid with the need to make her body convulse. Maybe to the point that she would lose consciousness.

I wondered how many times she could come before her heart failed. Perhaps I would work her up until she was on the brink of cardiac arrest, and then slowly bring her back to a peaceful calm—and make sure she was grateful that I had spared her life. I almost didn’t want to let her live, considering her impact on me. Almost. She was a treasure too valuable to lose.

“Take everything off,” I barked after her third orgasm. It took her an infuriatingly long time to remove her shirt and bra—though my refusal to stop stimulating her during this process likely contributed to her struggle. I forced another five releases from her body before I finally lifted my head up, my jaw covered in her juices. The thick aroma intoxicated me. My cock throbbed violently as I climbed on top of her.

“Taste how sweet you are,” I whispered before crushing my mouth onto hers. I could have let go right there, fully clothed, simply from hearing and feeling her muffled moans against my mouth. It was ridiculous how much she aroused me, but I wasn’t complaining. I had her where I wanted her at last.

“You’ve made a bit of a mess on my face, love,” I jeered. “Clean it up.”

She bit her lip and looked away, until I yanked on her hair. Her eyes began smarting.

“Obey my command,” I hissed in her ear.

After a whispered apology, she inclined her head upward and left soft, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw. She reached up to wrap her arms around my neck, but I grabbed her wrists and slammed them onto the mattress. She gasped and stopped moving.

“Finish!” I warned.

She dutifully finished “cleaning” my face and I finally stood up to disrobe—an act that probably looked more like tearing off my clothes as if in the throes of a fever. Though my control over my sexual urges was rather remarkable, this girl had been testing me for too long. And I was going to make sure she knew that.

Finally as bare as she was, I wrapped her legs around my waist and plunged into her. The pain and pleasure in her cries threatened to unravel me. Pinning her wrists down once more, I sharply bit her neck and drowned myself in her scent while driving deep into her body. I tasted blood when I finally released her flesh and pressed my cheek against hers.

I slowed my rhythm after a while, wanting to both tease her and catch my breath so as to drag out the encounter as long as possible. Releasing her arms, I grabbed her breasts and began massaging. Her back arched and she gripped my shoulders tightly as my mouth closed around her nipples. I shuddered at the resulting clench of her muscles around my length—she was like a silken wet glove, pulling me forward almost as much as the pleading words flowing from her swollen lips. I ignored her supplications, thrusting even more slowly while leaving teeth marks all over her breasts. She likely had no concept of how bruised she’d be in the morning.

Only after she’d been begging me to continue for a solid minute did I finally increase the pace, pounding her much harder than before. Her erotic screams were the sweetest siren song.

Though it felt like mere seconds before I allowed myself to climax, I knew it had been longer; I’d simply wanted more. It was never enough. But even a godlike man such as myself could only hold out for so long. I’d clearly worn the girl out as well—when I finally untangled myself from her, she was half asleep.

“Pity you have such a small bed,” I murmured in her ear after I dressed. “I’d stay the night otherwise.”

“Mm....” she sighed.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Falling asleep wrapped tightly in my arms?”

She nodded ever so slightly, eyes still closed, though the corners of her pretty mouth turned upward a bit.

“That gift I left in your bathroom will come in handy now,” I told her before Disapparating.

* * *

The never-ending supply of contraceptive potion I brought her became something of a joke between us. I’d stopped leaving the vials in the bathroom, as the novelty had quickly worn off. I’d now leave them somewhere unexpected, she’d find them while thinking of other matters entirely, and then she’d snicker when she saw the little presents—laughing in both amusement and relief.

“Really? On the _bookcase?”_ she giggled upon discovering the potion while retrieving another sketchbook to show me one evening. I merely chuckled in response.

There were a few times when she told me she hadn’t found my latest offering until a few days after our last encounter, and it had been difficult for her not to worry about _accidents._ She knew that the gesture was both a method of protection and a power play, seeing as I never told her where I would be leaving the vials in her apartment. Harboring no illusions about my nature, she accepted this little game and considered herself lucky that I even respected her at all. She was a smart girl.

Spring was turning to summer when I finally decided to reveal the rest of my plan for her.

“When does your lease expire?” I asked her after dinner one evening as she cleared the table and washed the dishes.

“The end of June.” She sighed. “I can’t believe I’ve been here for a year already.”

“Indeed. And you will not be renewing.”

“I—what?”

“You’re moving in with me.” I stepped in closer and ran a hand over her hair.

Her eyes widened so much, I thought they might burst from her skull.

“Cat got your tongue?” I teased.

“Oh! I—I’m sorry, my Lord. I’m not...I mean...how—how long will I be staying— _living_ with you?”

“Always.”

“...What.”

“You asked me what I wanted with you, and now you know. This is not a flight of fancy. I am quite serious.”

Her breathing grew labored as I cupped her face and forced her to look into my eyes. I didn’t know what she _had_ been expecting in the long run, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“What’s wrong? You don’t _want_ to live with me? You’re truly content to maintain a clandestine affair, hiding your affection for me while presenting yourself as single?”

“I—”

“Don’t you want to live freely, with the only man who will ever understand you, or have I misjudged you? Should I bring you home as a mere toy for my amusement—which you would _not_ enjoy—or as a respected significant other with some measure of control over your life? If I were you, I know what I’d choose.”

And for the first time in months, her fear of me spiked. I felt her body temperature drop a bit as her face numbed, and I found myself wanting to see how much I could increase her distress. Once she was tied to my bed, I could discover that and much more.

“W-well, it’s—there’s a practical issue here, too,” she spluttered after a long silence, her voice once again breathy and shallow, like it had been when I’d first visited her home.

“Which is?”

“In order for me to get paid, my job has to know my address, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want people to know where you live. I’d likely be putting you in danger by sharing my change of address and—”

“Quit your job. You won’t have to work anymore.”

“What? How—”

“My estate is both impenetrable and undetectable. I built it myself, using both bricks and magic, and no one will ever know of its location except you—assuming I can trust you with this information?”

“Oh! I think I—well, yes. Of course you can trust me.”

“You’re stammering again. That means you’re feeling unsure of yourself. Tell me what’s on your mind.” I would not take my eyes off hers, or my hands off her face.

“It’s—it’s just a lot. It’s a lot all at once, and I...I don’t know how, well—how safe I’ll be. I’m worried that I’ll feel...trapped.”

“Who’s trapping you? You only socialize with me, and you’ve enough interests to occupy yourself without having to waste away at a job that does not fulfill you. Of course, I’ll be giving you private Dark Arts lessons as well, so that can be considered your new job, but you’ll at least enjoy that.”

“Oh! I didn’t know if—”

“You will serve me optimally this way. My most loyal Death Eater and my right hand.”

She chewed on her lip as she pondered my words, torn between excitement over our future lessons and fear about the finality of living under my roof.

“I’ll not mince my words, Alex. You are not my equal, and you will not have complete freedom in being with me, so I suppose your apprehension has some merit. However, given that you know your place, you will be respected and protected more than you’ve ever been in your life. Only I can give you that. Accept your good fortune for what it is; you’d never be this lucky without me.”

She knew I was right.

Over the next two months, I would begin Summoning more and more of her belongings without telling her. A sketchbook here, a dress there—small enough objects removed with a gradual enough frequency that she wouldn’t notice at first. Then she’d begin to worry that she was losing her mind.

By the time she finally confessed to fearing for her sanity, I would reveal my antics and remind her that my methods were quite practical. Her walls would be bare and her cabinets empty by the time June ended, with her pretty little self being the only remaining possession left to bring home to me.

\- + - + -

_I smirked at the thought of taking her home, knowing she’d never be able to escape. Would I be able to wait long enough for her to present herself to me through my existing followers? Or would I grow too impatient and devise a plan to snatch her beforehand? As I imagined telling her in my delectable little fantasy: I would have to play it by ear._


	30. Deleted Scene 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place the morning after their first sexual encounter.

I went through my morning routine in a daze. I tried to believe that it wasn’t in fact _me_ who had just lost my virginity while tied to the Dark Lord’s bed, crying and begging him to stop while my body had demanded the exact opposite. It didn’t seem real. Maybe I really _had_ been dreaming this whole time, and I would wake up at Hogwarts eventually.

I knew I was in denial, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t ready to acknowledge what was happening to me.

Surprisingly, I had slept deeply. I’d been too exhausted to remain awake after my maniacal kidnapper had climbed off of my ravaged body, but I still felt a sinking exhaustion that seeped into my very bones. I wanted to crawl back into bed— _my_ bed, not his—and hibernate for a week, at least. I would talk to no one, complete not one more task than was absolutely necessary, and only eat when my stomach cramped.

_You belong to me. You can’t fight me anymore._

I cringed at the memory of the Dark Lord’s words, spoken as a warning declaration while he was still inside me. How could I possibly have responded? How could I possibly respond now? It was just as well that he’d ordered me to stop resisting him; I no longer possessed the energy to even fight with words. Unlike my usual fierce self, I had shrunk down to a dazed, numb zombie with no sense of direction. I felt like a hollow shell with unfamiliar contents growing and stirring inside—contents I was afraid of acknowledging and examining.

Trying desperately to keep my mind on neutral topics, I mentally fled the Dark Lord’s mansion and ignored his hand on my shoulder as he led me downstairs to the dining room. My brain registered the hot food sitting in front of me, but I could only see it as a meaningless display not meant to be touched. How could I eat in such a state? I’d managed the previous day; but the Dark Lord had also not yet taken me then. Circumstances were different now. My eyes were on the food as I took my seat, but I only stared blankly until my vision blurred. I couldn’t move.

“You suffer from nightmares.”

The Dark Lord’s voice brought me back to reality, and my head snapped up. “W-what?”

“You suffer from nightmares,” he repeated. “You toss and turn, moaning in your sleep.”

“Well, last night was...pretty rough on me, you know.”

“The same thing happened the previous night. On both nights, your shifting and moaning woke me up. I had to soothe you.”

“You had to— _what?_ What did—what did you do?”

My heart raced. My face felt numb. I had no idea what he counted as _soothing,_ and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Given his lack of respect for my autonomy while I was awake, there was no telling what he had done while I’d slept.

He smirked ever so slightly. “I stroked your hair; your face...I rubbed your shoulders and kissed your neck—it took a little while, but you calmed down eventually. It was fascinating to watch.”

_“Fascinating?!”_

“Oh, yes. You put up such a fight when you’re lucid; but when your subconscious desires rise to the surface, your body does everything I want it to do. Just like I knew it would.”

My eyes widened. My stomach roiled.

“Are you really that shocked? What did you expect me to do—beat you within an inch of your life to make you be quiet? That would have been counterproductive; I want you to enjoy my company, as I enjoy yours. You know I’ll only harm you if you defy my orders.”

“I—I just...I don’t—how could I have relaxed with you touching me? I _can’t_ relax when you touch me.”

“Not when you’re awake—not yet, at any rate.” His smirk widened.

“How can you say that?”

“Because I’m simply commenting on your behavior; I didn’t force your reaction to my touch. Merlin, you should have seen yourself—especially the moment when I stroked your cheek and you leaned into my hand. You were lying on your back with your face turned toward me. Your whole body went limp and you looked...relieved. You felt safe.”

I shook my head and shifted in my seat. “No...no way. That’s not possible.”

“Of course it’s possible. It happened. And I found it quite endearing. You were suddenly sleeping so peacefully with my one hand cupping your cheek, and the other stroking your body. I wish you could’ve heard those little sighs of contentment, every time my touch raised gooseflesh on your arms. You even arched into my hand a bit when I massaged your breasts. You looked so beautiful like that—docile, compliant, trusting....”

“No. _No._ I wouldn’t do that. And you don’t find anything _endearing._ You’re lying!”

He cocked his head to the side. “Why on Earth would I lie to you?” he asked smoothly.

“Because that’s what you do!” I exclaimed, feeling my face heat up. “You lie to people to manipulate them! You make people doubt themselves, so they’ll defer to your threats instead of their own judgment!”

“Not to you, sweetheart; you’re different. You’re special.”

I bit back a growl. His voice was still maddeningly calm, while mine was shaking; I was struggling not to scream my head off and smash my mug of tea onto the floor. Anything to wipe that insidious smirk off his face.

“I don’t believe—no, _you_ don’t believe that!” I insisted. “You’re trying to convince me to trust you more than I trust myself, just like everybody else does! You’re trying to melt me with pretty words and make me—”

“Why would I need to convince you of anything? You’ve secretly yearned for my approval for years, and now you have it. You’ve always wanted to be desired and cherished, and now you have that as well. And you certainly _should_ trust yourself; but you shouldn’t lie to yourself, either.”

“I’m not lying to myself! What the hell do you think I’m—”

“Alex, you’re forgetting that I have delved deep inside your mind as well as your body. I know what you think, I know what you fear, and I know what you _need._ Perhaps even better than you do, on a conscious level. All I’m doing is filling in the cracks where you’re lacking. And you know it. You’re just too afraid to admit it because you were hoping to control the circumstances under which you entered a relationship with a man. Given how frequently your agency has been stripped away, you’re now overcompensating by denying my affect on you, just to prove that you can—thereby sabotaging yourself in order to feel a measure of control over your life. You’re resisting that which you’ve always wanted because you don’t like the package it came in.”

I frowned and looked off to the side.

“Your body knows what it needs, even unconsciously,” he added quietly. “And you should feel honored that I am so invested in your wellbeing.”

“My _wellbeing?_ That’s so...how—you tied me down and—” I couldn’t bear to even think the proper words, much less speak them aloud. “—and when I told you to stop, you just kept going! You licked the tears off my face like it was all a game! And I’m supposed to be dumb enough to think that you _care_ about me? _Seriously?”_

“Seriously. And watch your mouth, young lady. I’ve had enough of your backtalk.”

I bit my lip.

“Now, speaking of your wellbeing—for the umpteenth time: _eat your food.”_

“Yes, my Lord,” I mumbled.

I sluggishly picked up my utensils and cut into my eggs and sausages. Several times. Anything to delay actually putting the food in my mouth.

“Alex, you _will_ finish your meal. Even if I have to force it down your throat.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer that I force something else down your throat.”

My utensils clattered onto the plate as I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. Raging adrenaline morphed into icy dread. “Okay, okay....okay. I’ll eat. Just don’t—please don’t do that.”

“I won’t. Not until you’re begging for it.”

I shuddered and turned my eyes to the mug next to my plate. “Can you at least tell me what’s in my tea?”

He shook his head, smirking once more. “You’ll be ready to hear it tomorrow. I’m sure of it.”

That sly grin, and the slight fondness in his eyes, made my stomach clench. “Do I have to drink it all at once?”

“No, love; there’s no need to be that dramatic. But do finish it with your meal.” He stared me down, gesturing for me to get on with it.

I sighed heavily. There was nothing else I could say; I either ate my breakfast or risked having another orifice violated. As much as the smell of the food turned my stomach, the Dark Lord’s threat repulsed me more. I ate as slowly as he would allow, stopping only to sip my tea and let my lips linger on the mug. It was all I could do not to run screaming from the room.

* * *

My energy increased after I finished eating. I knew, intellectually, that nutrition would help clear my mind—the problem was that I wasn’t sure how clearly I _wanted_ to think. As I often did during stressful situations, my strongest desire was to mentally check out and go somewhere more pleasant. The Dark Lord knew this, of course, and was determined to keep me focused on him constantly. I wasn’t there to daydream, he told me.

It was impossible to dissociate while in the midst of his instruction, which was as riveting as it was unnerving. I was beyond excited to finally be interacting with the Dark Lord in the way I’d always wanted to, but I also couldn’t separate his lessons from his crimes against my body.

Especially considering that I had responded exactly the way he’d wanted.

My heart pounded in horror—and masochistic curiosity—as I replayed his treatment in my head. How had this man, someone I’d never wanted to bed, reduced me to thrashing and moaning and shuddering in pleasure? My body seemed to have developed a mind of its own when firm hands and soft lips had touched all the right places. I’d tried so hard to resist, but my efforts had all been in vain. I’d had no control. How could that have happened? How could I have acted like that? And had he really been truthful when talking about my nightmares? The thought made my stomach clench.

It wasn’t just that he had kidnapped and assaulted me; it was that he seemed to view these actions as some bastardized form of romance. He truly could not grasp the problem with holding me hostage and expecting me to be flattered.

I tried to make sense of his mindset, thinking that might help me level with him a bit better. In a way, I could understand his sense of entitlement—I had hurt many people because I’d felt justified, and I had relished their pain. The power I’d wielded had intoxicated me.

I’d had a tragic childhood, just like the Dark Lord had done, and I supposed that being raised on trauma would warp anyone’s psychology and make them want to take from others. I couldn’t fault him for turning out the way he had, when I didn’t fault myself for turning out similarly; the issue was that I no longer held the power. I was no longer the predator. I was not an intimidating loner parting a sea of teenagers while marching off to class like I owned the castle; I was in an undetectable fortress, in the clutches of the most powerful man on Earth. One false move could get me killed. Therefore, trying to understand him better was my best shot at evading further harm.

The Dark Lord felt entitled to my time and admiration because he saw me as an asset. He valued my intelligence, my loyalty, and my capability—all skills he required of his Death Eaters. He wouldn’t have sought me out if I held no use to him. That was one aspect of our arrangement that I understood: I, too, only sought someone’s company if they had something I wanted. Sometimes it was a physical object, like a type of makeup I wanted to borrow; but it was usually something intangible, such as an extra notch on my She’s-Not-So-Bad-After-All sword, which I wielded with more and more expertise as I matured and learned to mimic what everyone else was doing. It was rare that I liked someone for their company alone, with no strings attached. I wasn’t a sentimental baby desperate for like-minded individuals to validate me, the way most people were; so I wasn’t put off by the Dark Lord’s view of me in that regard. I wanted to serve in his army, and he wanted valuable recruits; thus his training me was practical for both of us.

Outside of his lessons, I _did_ find it flattering that he wanted more than just my body; but I still couldn’t escape the fact that he had deliberately ignored my protests. As I’d admitted to myself while lying beneath him, there was a line between having rape fantasies and actually _being_ raped. And this man did not give a damn where that line was.

I wondered if his observations over breakfast had merit—I _was_ accustomed to having my boundaries destroyed and my needs viewed as an inconvenience. And perhaps I _did_ possess subconscious wishes of which I was unaware, but so what? That didn’t give the Dark Lord the right to plow ahead and treat me like a toy, under the guise of satisfying my repressed desires. I was not a toddler with no concept of how to take care of myself or express my needs. I didn’t need someone older to tell me what was best for me. I was more self-aware than most people twice my age, given everything I had endured—daily abuse had forced me to mature faster than average, simply to survive. My awareness, of myself and of others, was sharp as a whip. And my captor was not treating me as such.

Despite his claim that he wanted me to enjoy his ministrations, the Dark Lord had maliciously violated me. He had cut my skin and brought me to tears, and my suffering had only aroused him further. That was not consensual behavior. That was not the way someone treated a person they admired. That was not romance.

It also disturbed me that he’d essentially called me uptight for wanting to choose how and when I entered a physical relationship. Wasn’t that the whole bloody _point_ of relationships—both parties entering the arrangement by choice? Wanting to decide such things on my own terms, and rejecting the opposite, was not self-sabotage. It was not a character flaw to want to think before acting. Or fucking, for that matter.

 _Did_ it scare me that this man possessed qualities I found attractive? I’d never considered myself a saboteur, so why would I be resisting him if I really did return his interest? Mutual attraction was a treasure I thought I’d never find; why on Earth would I oppose it if the opportunity presented itself?

 _Was_ the opportunity presenting itself?

What had I really expected, now that I’d spent years of fantasizing about evil men desiring me? After daydreaming about demon claws and vampire fangs and devil horns, what was I really hoping to achieve in real-life partnerships? I suddenly realized that I hadn’t given the notion much thought.

I could admit that I enjoyed being wanted; there _was_ something enticing about being utterly saturated by a man whom I’d driven into a frenzy with no effort. I’d wanted to be treated like that for years—but again, on my own terms. I’d wanted to assert my interest in a man when I was ready, either by approaching him first or responding favorably to his invitation.

Would such scenarios ever happen now? How long did the Dark Lord plan on treating me as his property? _You belong to me,_ he had declared. Was this a permanent arrangement or a flight of fancy? If the former, how well would I adapt? If the latter, how would he treat me when it was over? At this stage of the game, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

I also couldn’t afford to linger on these ruminations; I had lessons to complete. And my instructor was far from lenient.

“Lower your wand a bit,” he muttered, stepping behind me and placing his right hand over mine to adjust my position. “That’s right. Try it again.”

My stomach fluttered. His hand had not moved, and I felt his breath on my ear as he leaned down to kiss my hair. I stole a glance behind me, about to ask why he was rubbing my waist with his free hand...and I jumped upon seeing that his mouth was inches from mine.

“Are you going to cast the spell, or are you going to ask me to kiss you?” he drawled while stroking my right hand with his thumb. “I’ll be satisfied either way.”

I hastily turned my head back around. After a few shaky breaths, I steadied my right arm and cast the spell I had just learned.

I found it easier to relax when the Dark Lord was treating me like a student instead of a sex object. My body always tensed the moment his gaze lingered on me for too long.

Like the day before, our training session was an emotional tug of war: for the most part, he behaved like a charismatic professor and commanded my rapt attention. This was how I’d always dreamed of interacting with him, and I could hardly contain my excitement.

The rest of the time, he acted like a barely-restrained starving animal sniffing at prey just out of reach. An uncomfortable, dull throbbing swelled in between my legs whenever he stepped in close to study me intently before returning to Teacher Mode. I swallowed hard when he once stopped speaking to tuck my hair behind my ear; I was trying desperately not to enjoy it. However, the air felt warmer and thicker, and the tension in my body was threatening to suffocate me.

Was I becoming attracted to this man after all? It hardly seemed possible, given the way he had treated me thus far, but my body was responding and I couldn’t seem to make it stop—though perhaps it was less about _him,_ and more about the thrill of simply being wanted. I’d have to think on that.

How long would these strange sensations last? What did they mean? How would this bizarre situation turn out? I had no way of knowing.

In the meantime, I had some new spells to master. And I was learning from the best. That, at least, was comforting.


	31. Deleted Scene 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of winter break, a tour of Tom’s house leads to gratuitous pool sex.

Winter break was shaping up to be better than I’d expected. I was still recovering from the shock of discovering Tom’s attraction to me—and how intensely he’d begun displaying it, without wasting any time—but I was no longer in fear for my life. I was still a bit tense, however; my stomach clenched more often than not as reality finally began to sink in: I was spending winter break alone with Lord Voldemort. And there was nothing I could do to change that.

How long would he want me? What was he hoping to achieve by keeping me in his home for two weeks? He obviously wanted to train me to become a Death Eater; he wouldn’t be spending so much time teaching me the Dark Arts and pushing me to my limits if I held no use for him. Still, I sensed that there was more to it. He wasn’t telling me everything.

I wanted to ask him some very blunt questions, but I was both afraid of his answers as well as his reaction to such brazenness. Would he torture me if I asked him a question that angered him? Would he punish me if I touched on a subject he thought I had no business knowing about? Would he become offended and think I didn’t trust him enough?

Because of my confusion over these serious issues, it was a relief when Tom spoke to me like we were just regular people. Our normal conversations, as rare as they were, calmed me considerably and allowed me to catch a glimpse of the man behind the immense power and melodrama. Underneath the fearsome overlord who could kill without a second thought, there was an intelligent human being whom I found interesting and relatively easy to talk to. I felt compelled to watch every word that came out of my mouth, but sometimes that pressure lessened when Tom was more relaxed and approachable.

A week into winter break, Tom gave me an impromptu tour of his house. I had, unsurprisingly, become fixated on the library and had spent all my free time there thus far, but my curiosity had expanded as my nerves had calmed over the past few days. Noting my widening focus, he decided to take me out of the library and show me around.

I paid him rapt attention when he spoke, but my mind wandered when he silently stood beside me and let me take it all in—the house was beautiful. The architecture was a nod to Gothic and Renaissance aesthetics, with intricate geometric patterns in the stone walls and ceilings, dramatic archways at the edges of the larger rooms, and a smattering of stained glass windows. The walls were constructed of both stone and dark wood, with curtains in colors ranging from forest green to dark blue to solid black. I especially loved the ornate tracery in the silver snake affixed to the bedroom door, which could easily have been featured in an art museum.

Of course, the instant my mind drifted off to the bedroom, I began reliving everything that had happened there since the holiday had begun.

In addition to having immense sexual prowess, Tom was also quite easy on the eyes, in any state of undress. I had spent quite a bit of time reveling in the feel of his smooth skin, toned musculature, and raw strength—the latter of which was most evident when he effortlessly threw me over his shoulder before slamming me down on the bed.

My body warmed and a soft pulsing swelled in between my legs.

“I have a question,” I asked after we’d finished making the rounds on the second floor. I was a bit embarrassed about where my mind was going, but I was too curious to keep my thoughts to myself.

“What is it?”

“How do you, well...stay in such good shape? No one gets that fit without effort.”

“I swim almost every day.”

My face lit up. “You have a pool?!”

“Of course I have a pool. I take it you’d like to see it?”

“Yeah!”

I hadn’t been in the water since I was a small child—spending hours in hotel swimming pools while on vacation had been one of the few bright spots of my early years, and so I had adored the activity more than most children. As much as I’d annoyed myself by getting overly excited about something so minor, not being one for grandiose displays of emotion, some of that old giddiness was resurfacing as the long-forgotten smell of chlorine wafted into my nose.

Tom chuckled at my exuberance and led me down a hallway he had not yet shown me. It was not that far from the library, close to a few bookshelves I had yet to explore. I made a mental note to come back here soon.

The pool, like the rest of the house, was enormous. Surrounded by a floor constructed of large off-white tiles, the light blue water stood out more than it would have anywhere else in the house. This was probably the brightest room in Tom’s entire estate! I smiled as I surveyed the gigantic space that reminded me so much of hotel pools; a man like Tom _would_ pull out all the stops. Why was I even surprised?

“It’s too bad I don’t have a bathing suit,” I thought aloud.

“Yes, you do.”

“What—”

Tom pointed his wand in my direction, and my clothing suddenly transformed into a black string bikini.

“Oh my god, seriously?” I laughed.

“Indeed. Enjoy yourself; I’ll come fetch you in an hour.” He gave me a quick kiss and left the room.

I chuckled again as I sat down on the edge of the pool before lowering myself into the warm water. It was four feet deep at the shallow end, allowing me to stand still and acclimate to the sensation of being in water for the first time in years. Conflicting memories swelled—being overcome with impatience upon arriving at a hotel with my family, wanting to do nothing but swim while everyone else wanted to unpack and relax, screaming after I’d been swimming for hours and my parents told me it was time to leave....

I exhaled loudly and closed my eyes. Though the childhood memories still stung a bit, they were quickly being replaced with a quieter, more peaceful feeling: I was no longer in my parents’ clutches, at the mercy of their rigid vacation schedules. I may not have had total freedom here in Tom’s house, but I didn’t feel terribly restricted. I felt freer than I had ever felt as a child. And I was going to indulge this feeling shamelessly.

Twelve dives and thirty laps later, I was happily exhausted, floating on my back with a small smile playing at the corners of my mouth. It felt lovely to let loose in this enormous pool, not having to worry about other people taking up the space I wanted to occupy or talking to me when I wished to be alone.

I turned over and did one more lap in a slow breaststroke, loving the feeling of my hands pushing the water as I moved. Upon arriving at the edge of the pool, I folded my arms on the tile floor and rested my head near my elbow, closing my eyes with a heavy sigh. I hadn’t felt this calm in years.

And then I jumped, upon feeling hands on my waist.

“Enjoying your swim?” Tom murmured in my ear while resting his chin in the crook of my neck. He clearly didn’t care that I hated being snuck up on; in fact, he seemed to relish it.

“Yeah,” I breathed, trying to slow my fluttering pulse. How had I not heard him enter the water? Not that it mattered—I was certainly aware of his presence now, with his chest pressed against my back and his hands moving up my torso to cup my breasts. I bit my lip when I felt him stiffen. He wasn’t wearing anything, swimwear or otherwise.

Gripping my hips, he turned me around to face him and our lips met. We kissed slowly, neither of us seeming to care about the faint taste of pool water on our tongues, until he pulled away and hoisted me up onto the floor. I chuckled.

“Lie down,” he ordered. Unlike me, he wasn’t smiling. His jaw was set, and he had that fiery look in his eyes that made it impossible to tell if he was angry or aroused. Or both. It didn’t matter; I couldn’t risk defying him either way. I slowly lowered my back to the cool floor—a sharp contrast to the warm water surrounding me for the past hour. This wasn’t the most comfortable position. I squirmed a bit until Tom’s fingers dug into my hips.

“Stay still.”

I sighed and stared up at the ceiling. If I wasn’t allowed to move, then I hoped to focus my attention on something outside of my body. And so I counted the ceiling tiles while Tom rubbed my thighs, until I felt kisses on my knees.

“Spread your legs.”

His lips trailed up my inner thighs as I obeyed his command. Relaxing was difficult while lying on a cold tile floor, so I tried to focus more on his body than my own. This task was surprisingly easy, and a surge of arousal shot through me when I felt him untying the strings of my bikini bottom and pulling the material down to expose me. His mouth was on my flesh a moment later.

Soft moans escaped my throat as he worked me up, and I spread my legs wider. My feet were now perched on the edge of the pool, my toes gripping the tiles. Since I was so determined to ignore the rising pain in my back from lying on the floor, Tom’s stimulation felt more pronounced than normal. Each stroke of his tongue made my inner walls quiver, and his grip on my thighs seemed tighter than usual. The sounds of kissing, licking, and sucking filled my ears.

I reached up and grabbed my breasts as my pelvic muscles clenched, keeping my body as still as possible—I didn’t fancy a sharp pain shooting up my back and interrupting the ensuing rush of pleasure. I’d never remained perfectly still during orgasm, preferring to let my body ride out the shockwaves until they abated. This time, however, I wondered if it were possible to keep myself from moving. Would doing so increase the pleasure’s intensity or decrease it?

It was the former. Moaning turned to screaming; a high-pitched keening echoing off the walls. I didn’t think Tom was exerting more force than normal as he licked and sucked my clitoris, but it felt that way under the pressure of remaining still and focusing all my energy on the pulsing heat between my legs.

My body sagged. My heartbeat slowed. Tom’s mouth was still moving—licking inside me and sucking out the fluid that was likely covering his entire jaw. I wanted him to drag me over the edge again, and yet I didn’t; I wasn’t sure I had the stamina to withstand another round. Or two or three, knowing him.

I heaved a sigh of relief when he withdrew and fastened the strings of my bikini bottom. Closing my eyes, I reveled in the haze of pleasure that had not quite cleared, content to drift there for a while.

Tom had other plans. I yelped in surprise when he sharply grabbed my waist and pulled me back into the water. He kissed my neck and throat for a little while, grinding his pelvis against mine, and then hoisted himself up so that he was now in my previous position. His thighs were splayed, his erection inches in front of my face.

I could take a hint.

Holding onto his thigh with one hand to support myself, I wrapped my other hand around the base of his shaft and began sucking. His flesh was surprisingly hot, considering the difference in temperature between the pool and the air; but I suspected that our previous activity had warmed his body as much as mine. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Look at me,” he whispered, lifting my chin while his cock was still in my mouth. “Let me see that eager anticipation in your eyes...” His breathing was labored now, but he kept egging me on. “Show me that loyal admiration tinged with fear....”

I froze.

“Oh yes, I know. I’ve seen the conflict in your whirring mind. You’ll never completely stop fearing me, my sweet girl. You’re too paranoid for that, and you know me too well—but you also know your place. I never see this more clearly than when you’re pleasuring me. It’s unbelievably erotic.”

A sharp tug on my hair made me wince.

“I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep going.”

He caressed the back of my head, squeezing my hair every so often while I resumed sucking him. Fear was spiking in my chest, given the harsh expression on Tom’s face, but I couldn’t deny that his presence alone inspired loyalty and a fierce desire to please. In more ways than one. I placed hard kisses all over his shaft, loving the sight of the muscle twitching under my touch. He may have been more powerful than I, but he couldn’t remain completely in control while in this position.

Another sharp tug. “Eyes on me.”

I complied, looking up at him as adoringly as I could while slowly licking the underside of his cock. This particular motion drove him especially wild; he’d see my mouth opening wide and expect to fill me up, only to be met with a partial relief. But he enjoyed it all the same. He’d told me so only two nights earlier. He adored the expression on my face as I teased him; the look in my eyes. He adored watching my lips part and my tongue move up and down his length, only stopping when my mouth closed around the tip and sucked gently. I flicked my tongue over the small, dripping slit until he grabbed the back of my head and forced my mouth all the way down.

He was craving release—moaning, gripping my hair tightly, and whispering the occasional _Fuck!_ as his thighs quivered. I loved feeling his cock pulse in my mouth, seeing his face scrunch up, and hearing him groan louder and louder until his hips jerked upwards and hot fluid burst into my mouth.

I cringed at the bitter taste. Though I loved pleasing him, I wasn’t enamored with the end result—but he would not be denied. Thankfully, it was getting easier to force my mind to go blank while swallowing him; nightly practice for a week straight yielded quick results. As always, he seemed satisfied.

We remained in place for a moment—him sitting on the edge of the pool, shoulders slouched as he recovered, while my folded arms rested on his thighs to hold myself above the water. I looked into his eyes, awaiting his next instruction.

After stroking my face, he reached under my arms and pulled me out of the pool. I sat next to him, dangling my feet in the water and watching the ripples expand outward. I could have easily sat there for a while, admiring the beauty of the room and letting my mind wander. Instead, I stood up after a minute and followed Tom over to the small shower in the corner of the room. We said nothing; merely regarded each other while the hot water rinsed the chlorine from our bodies.

Tom cast drying spells and then waved his wand to restore my clothing to its original form. It was hard not to chuckle; I’d never before been fully clothed while he was stark naked. It was always the other way around. And so I could quietly admire his physique while I followed him out of the room, where his clothes were folded neatly on a chair. Once dressed, he took my hand and led me into the dining room for lunch.

Despite his harsh words moments earlier, I found myself calm in his presence once more—content to walk through his house and eat meals with him like a regular couple. Though we were both far from regular people, it was nice to experience such normal things with him. Ordinary activities provided a necessary counterpoint to the rollercoaster I’d been riding for the past week.

In that moment, I felt peace.


	32. Deleted Scene 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter 10 extension that didn’t quite fit into SWQ, but I liked it as a one-shot.

_“Tom!”_

I shuddered through my third orgasm, screaming my bedfellow’s name over and over as his fingers pumped relentlessly. My whole body would have been thrashing if Tom hadn’t been holding me against his chest with an iron grip.

I didn’t know how I even had the energy for this. After taking my last set of finals, killing Erica when she saw my Dark Mark, and then fleeing Hogwarts in my pajamas with nothing but my wand and invisibility cloak, how did I even have it in me to respond to Tom? I had just slept at least twelve hours, but I felt like I needed more. I was drained.

Tom must have sensed this. He finally withdrew his fingers and slid over to the side, allowing me to recline. I raised my arms over my head and stretched, before sinking back into the mattress with a soft sigh. Consciousness began slipping away.

“You’ve got lots of unpacking to do,” he murmured while trailing his soaked fingers up and down my torso.

“Mm...”

“If you insist on staying in bed, looking so tempting and pliant, I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you alone. We haven’t seen each other in months, you realize. And I’ve got no plans this evening.”

“And I’ve got no energy,” I mumbled.

“So I’ll do all the work. You’ll repay me tomorrow.”

When I made to rebuff him, his hand clamped over my mouth and he climbed on top of me. I groaned. I wasn’t in the mood for more sexual activity, especially given how long our encounter had lasted in the early morning. But, as usual, Tom had the final word. I also lacked the stamina to try and push him off—not that that would have made an ounce of difference.

As it was, I did get a thrill from how much I riled him up. My pride was wavering. I felt myself relaxing as his mouth trailed down my stomach, licking up the fluid his fingers had left there. He bestowed searing kisses all over my cold flesh, which was starting to heat up once more. My nipples hardened so much, they almost hurt when Tom began rubbing them between his thumb and index finger. I squirmed and whimpered, frustrated as I was aroused: his refusal to take no for an answer annoyed and flattered me simultaneously. I still had not yet grown accustomed to feeling desirable, after years of being treated like a disease.

Desire won out. Tom barely had to exert any force in prying my legs apart, and I spread them wider when he began licking frantically.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered, wrapping his arms more tightly around my inner thighs. I may not have been in the mood a few minutes earlier, but I eagerly rolled my hips and moaned as Tom continued stimulating me. I could almost feel his pent-up sexual energy, which had clearly built up over the three months since we’d last been together. He was more forceful in his movements, his harsh breathing was louder and more ragged, and he was looking up at me with a fire in his eyes that I hadn’t seen since our first night together in December—it felt like he was trying to burn holes in my skin. I kept my eyes locked on his as long as I could, until the pressure burst and I threw my head back with a howl.

He was still licking my clitoris when the shockwaves died down. I tried to pull away, but he only gripped my thighs tighter.

“Oh my god, please...s-stop...just for a minute...I can’t—”

“No. It’s been months. I’ll decide when you’ve had enough.”

Four more waves of pleasure tore through me before Tom climbed back on top of me.

“I am utterly addicted to your body,” he murmured, his face buried in my neck. “I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to.”

Exhausted as I was, I couldn’t help but smile. “I love it when you talk like that,” I whispered. “It makes me feel...craved. It’s so different from what I’m used to hearing.”

“You _are_ craved. So deeply, deeply desired. And I take great pleasure in reminding you of this.”

He was inside me a second later, thrusting hard. The encounter didn’t last quite as long as the one in the early morning, but neither of us minded. When it was over, he kissed me hard and then rolled over onto his back. We were silent for a while.

I began drifting off again, only stirring when Tom nudged my shoulder.

“What is it?”

“You can’t lie in bed all evening, you know. You’ll derail your sleep schedule more than you already have. And anyway, like I just told you, you’ve got lots of unpacking to do.”

“Can’t the elves do it? I’m too tired.”

“Are you sure the elves will put everything away exactly how you’ll like it? Do you want to keep summoning them over and over, asking them where they stored certain possessions?”

That was the motivation I needed.

“You have a point,” I grumbled, and slowly sat up. Tom chuckled and nudged me again, toward the edge of the bed. He waved his wand to clean us as I padded over to my Hogwarts trunk.

“How were your exams?” he asked, while walking into his closet to fetch some clean clothes of his own.

“They were a bit stressful, especially Transfiguration, but I somehow retained my position at the top of the class. Not that it matters now, but...it was still thrilling to see that.”

“I’m sure. However, top of your class or not, I’m sure you had some trouble spots. We’ll need to begin going over those after you’ve settled in. I’ll give you a few weeks to grow accustomed to our new living arrangements, and then we will resume your Dark Arts lessons.”

“That sounds good. Thank you for that grace period; my brain is pretty scrambled right now.”

“So much so, you didn’t notice the new closet I’ve carved out for you.”

I looked up and smiled: next to Tom’s closet door was an identical one that had not been there over winter break.

“Well, go on and have a look,” he encouraged.

Walking around my trunk, I opened the door and my smile broadened. The closet was almost as big as Tom’s, with plenty of room for all my clothes—and then some. A surge of excitement shot through me. I suddenly had more than enough energy to unpack.

 _Holy fucking shit, I’m actually living with Tom!_ I thought as I bent down to open my trunk. Reality was finally sinking in: I was in a committed relationship with Lord Voldemort, and we were now living together. All of my belongings were in his—our—bedroom. I was protected. I was safe. I’d never have to worry about returning to my family home again.

I was also standing naked in the middle of the room, and I could feel Tom’s eyes roving all over me as I rummaged through my trunk. I pretended not to notice. As much as I enjoyed being with him, something about his sexual attention still unnerved me a bit. Perhaps it was simply that I was unaccustomed to such scrutiny—or maybe it was that the scrutiny was coming from the most powerful, dangerous Dark wizard alive, and I was utterly powerless to stop him from taking what he wanted. He knew exactly how to touch me to draw out his desired responses, I was not allowed to refuse him, and I could never escape his intense focus. In or out of the bedroom. His fascination with me meant that he would be roving around inside my mind as much as my body. And he didn’t care a whit if his Legilimency bothered me.

I might have to talk to him about that later.

In the meantime, I decided that it would be best to simply enjoy the feeling of being a successful Hogwarts graduate living in the most stable environment I’d ever experienced. Sure, it would be a massive adjustment, but I felt it in my bones that living with Tom was my best option. After growing up having to navigate everyone’s moods and biases against me, I could figure out how to navigate this new living arrangement. And in order to do that, I would need to know where Tom stood.

“So...what will our life be like?” I asked, finally dressed and in the process of unpacking. I always felt more comfortable talking to him when I had clothes on.

“It will be very similar to winter break,” he said matter-of-factly. “I will be training you in the Dark Arts for about six hours a day, you’ll practice on your own afterwards, and we’ll eat meals together. You will, of course, accompany me to all Death Eater gatherings, and carry out all tasks I assign to you. You can spend your free time doing whatever you wish.”

“It sounds like Dark Arts training is my new job!”

“It absolutely is. I told you in December that I would make you the most powerful Dark witch in the world. That is no easy feat, but one that I trust you can master. You stand by my side for this reason. As my right hand, I’ll need your skills to be at an optimal level. You will work hard and master every concept I teach you. Though I know you feel more relaxed here than you did at Hogwarts, or inside your family’s home, you must understand that you are not on vacation here.”

“I know.” I shifted on my feet before returning my attention to organizing my new closet. My grip on my wand tightened a bit.

Tom stroked my hair and smirked. “I’ll allow you a few weeks to settle in, as I said. There’s no need to fear for your safety, as long as you do what I tell you. I’m confident that you will flourish under my care. Now, where would you like your desk?”

“Oh! Um—I don’t know. Do you have a spare room where I could set up some of my things?”

“I have several rooms,” he chuckled. “But something tells me you’ll feel most at home in the library. How about we go downstairs and find a place where you’d like to get situated? Once you find a spot, I’ll have the elves move your desk.”

“That sounds good. Do you mind if I paint in the library, or should I do that in a separate room?”

“That will definitely need to happen in a separate room. There are one of two rooms on this floor where you could move your art supplies. Come, I’ll show you.”

I flicked my wand once more, sending the remaining folded clothes into my closet, and followed Tom out of the bedroom.

Though I had walked through these halls several times before, it felt different now, knowing that I actually lived here. I wasn’t on a bizarre winter holiday trip with no idea of what the future would bring; I was _living_ in this house. And Tom was not merely my bedfellow for a few weeks; he was my partner. I had no idea how long this relationship would last, but I knew in the pit of my stomach that it was not a whimsical arrangement. Tom was deadly serious about me. Still, I was not yet ready to consider exactly _how_ serious. My immediate future was bringing me more pressing concerns.

How long would it take me to adjust to living with Tom? How successfully would I adapt to navigating his rigid rules? Though I was freer than I’d ever been before, I wasn’t completely free. I knew I had to obey his instructions or pay a hefty price. And our two weeks together over winter break might not have given me adequate preparation. Unfortunately, I couldn’t choose to simply pack my bags and go stay somewhere else for a while; I was coupled with a powerful, possessive Dark wizard and also hiding from the law. I couldn’t step outside in broad daylight, for any reason.

Trepidation over living with Tom was preferable to the misery of a lifetime in Azkaban.

“You’re off in your own world again, aren’t you?” Tom chided, squeezing my shoulder. We had arrived in one of the rooms he was willing to clear out for my art supplies, and I hadn’t even noticed.

“Sorry,” I sighed. “It’s just a lot to take in, and I’m having a hard time staying focused. I feel like such a ditz.”

He chuckled. “Well, a ditz certainly couldn’t have pulled the stunt you did this morning. You’re overwhelmed. This is why I’m giving you time to rest; you’re in no shape to learn complex Dark spells. All you have to do this evening is figure out where you want your desk and your books, and where you want to paint—

 _Guuurrrrgle._

—“and eat dinner with me.” Tom laughed and tickled my grumbling stomach. “Exactly when was your last meal, young lady?”

“Um...oh my god, it must have been twenty-four hours ago. Dinner at Hogwarts last night.”

“You’ll not be skipping meals under my roof—not one, and certainly not a full day’s worth. That’s one habit I’ll need you to break.”

“Well, it’s not something I do regularly; just once in a while when I’m really stressed out.”

Tom pressed his lips into a firm line. “It won’t be happening at all, Alex. You must keep up your strength. Some of the material I’ll be teaching you is incredibly taxing, on both the mind and body. You won’t succeed on an empty stomach.”

I sighed. Was I about to enter a form of higher education, or magical boot camp? Time would tell.

Tom showed me around the two potential art rooms, and I settled with the second one. It was larger, with more shelf space and natural light. Tom immediately summoned his two elves and ordered them to set up my art supplies the way I wanted. Once I was satisfied with the result, we descended the stairs and began walking through the library. The elves silently followed at a distance.

That was something else to which I was unaccustomed: house elves. They were small, bizarre-looking creatures that reminded me a bit of the goblins at Gringotts—though these were friendlier. Probably because Tom would slit their throats if they showed even a hint of disrespect.

Tom found my reaction to the elves highly amusing. Having grown up in a middle-class family, I was not accustomed to seeing marked displays of wealth, be they an enormous mansion or a set of house elves. Tom would definitely expect me to conduct myself like a wealthy Pureblood witch, now that we were officially together, but that task didn’t seem terribly daunting. I loved any excuse to feel important, especially after being treated like a leper for most of my life. I knew I would enjoy launching myself onto the opposite end of the social spectrum.

After ten minutes of wandering around the library, I finally found a place that felt right for my desk. The elves brought it downstairs promptly, along with my books and journals, and set everything up against the wall. Tom Transfigured the nearest bookcase to make it longer, allowing the elves room to place all of my books.

Something about seeing my most prized possessions perfectly situated in Tom’s library—now mine as well—really allowed the truth to sink in. I lived here. I belonged here. I was _wanted_ here. I was safe.

Tom knew what I was thinking. As he always did. Grinning broadly, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me.

“It feels good to be here,” I whispered.

“And it feels good to have you here.” He kissed me again. “Welcome home.”


	33. Deleted Scene 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument arises over Tom’s constant Legilimency and Alex’s need for privacy. This takes place shortly after Deleted Scene 4.

I’d been living with Tom for two weeks now. I didn’t have a solid routine yet, as my mind was still drifting off every which way. I had a hard time sitting still and focusing on one particular task for longer than fifteen minutes. I had to keep getting up and pacing before returning to my activities. As frustrating as this was, Tom insisted that I was settling in beautifully. He reminded me that I wasn’t losing my nerve, or neglecting my hygiene, or having random crying fits like many girls would in my situation. I was keeping a level head. I was being productive in my painting and journaling—and of course devouring all the books I could get my hands on. There was an addictive thrill to reading Dark Arts books out in the open, after years of sneaking around Hogwarts at night under my invisibility cloak, always fearful of getting caught. During a few moments when I was feeling especially upbeat, I nearly squealed at my good fortune.

During the first week of our cohabitation, Tom and I spent a great deal of time talking on the living room couch. He wanted to hear all about my final months at Hogwarts, how I had navigated the social scene hiding my new status as a Death Eater, and how I had felt while taking my last exams. I was mildly surprised by this, given that Tom was a solitary creature—even more so than I. Then again, we hadn’t seen each other since that brief tryst during the spring. We had a lot more to tell each other than I’d anticipated! Having had very few opportunities to connect with someone so intensely, I was both excited and unnerved. And, of course, Tom insisted on _exciting_ me in other ways quite frequently as well. I did not object.

The novelty of living with Tom began to wear off slightly after that first week. We started spending less time together just for the sake of it, as Tom returned to his usual routines of research, plans for Death Eater assignments, and magical experimentation. We mostly talked in bed and during meals, and occasionally passed each other in the halls. It appeared that our life together would be fairly quiet—a blessed relief, given my turbulent upbringing. It was so refreshing to live with someone who actually understood me. The persistent knot of tension in my body started to diminish at last.

Though Tom maintained that I still wasn’t ready to resume our Dark Arts lessons, meaning that I needed to continue decompressing, something else was raising my stress levels: his Legilimency. The man was utterly obsessed with my thought processes, to the point that I barely even had to speak in his presence. He wanted me to speak, and asked me questions frequently—but I likely could have gone days without speaking a single word, and he’d not be the least bit confused. He knew every phrase and image that flashed through my mind when we were in the same room. And probably when I was on the other side of the bloody house, as well. That thought made me shudder.

During one such afternoon, I was having more difficulty focusing than usual. I had painted on and off for two hours after breakfast, and then I had to stop because another wave of restlessness was building. I needed to move my body. After storing my art supplies, I left the room in a huff and stalked off down the hall.

I wasn’t sure where the sudden anxiety had come from. I’d woken feeling quite peaceful, discussed the latest Ministry intelligence with Tom over breakfast, and then strode off to my art room while he retreated into his study. Nothing had gone wrong. Perhaps I was still processing all the wild events of the past six months, and repressed emotions were rising to the surface as I relaxed and allowed everything to flow through me. That had happened in the past. For instance, even months after I’d gotten over Matthew, I had still grappled with random bursts of anger and pain as memories had swelled during quiet moments—studying, eating meals in the Great Hall, taking exams....

“What are you doing, thinking about a stupid boy from years ago?” Tom quipped, with one eyebrow raised and his head tilted to the side.

I gasped, not having seen him approach. “Wait— _what?”_

“You’re thinking about that imbecile from your fourth year at Hogwarts, yes? Might I ask why?”

I shook my head and took a step back. My heart raced.

“You’re with me now. That’s all that matters. Don’t dwell on the past. If I discover that you’re still harboring feelings for this boy—”

“Tom!”

“You were thinking about him. I don’t appreciate that.”

“Merlin, I wasn’t _missing_ him; I was just flashing back to—I mean, I was thinking about why I sometimes feel crappy for no reason when everything is fine! It was just—it wasn’t about him specifically, what I was thinking, and I—”

He was suddenly in front of me, cupping my face in his hands and forcing me to look up at him. A small sneer ghosted across his face.

“I love that I can still reduce you to stumbling over your words when I catch you off-guard. If I pin you against the wall and make you come right here, d’you think you’ll forget about your past for a little while? And maybe you’ll relax a bit afterwards?”

“This—this isn’t right.” My hands balled into fists and my jaw set. I stepped back when Tom made to unfasten my robe and reach into my panties.

The cocky sneer became an angry frown. He grasped my shoulders and backed me up against the wall, standing so close that I could feel his breath on my face. His lips were barely an inch from mine.

 _“What_ isn’t right?” he hissed, his lips grazing my jaw. “Thinking about some stupid little boy who broke your heart years ago, after entering a committed relationship with me? I can think of several things that are _not right_ about that, my sweet girl.” His teeth sank into my neck.

“Tom, I—I wasn’t—”

“You belong to me. No one else. I thought you understood this.”

“I do! I don’t _want_ to be with anyone else! My thoughts just drifted to him because I was thinking about feeling random bursts of anger or anxiety when I’m fine, because they come from old issues that I guess haven’t...settled down yet.”

“I know.” The sneer returned ever so slightly. “But I detected just a hint of longing for that innocent schoolgirl-crush mentality, buried deep under your analysis of your emotional tumult—very mature of you, I must admit. I’m impressed with your knowledge of psychology.”

“I don’t want you roving through my thoughts that way. And honestly, I don’t want you roving through my thoughts at all. It’s really invasive. THAT is what doesn’t feel right.”

“It only doesn’t feel right because you’ve never been truly cherished and respected before, and so you’re accustomed to keeping everyone at a distance. You should be flattered by my interest. It’s a compliment, you know.” He tucked my hair behind my ear.

“No, it doesn’t feel right because I’m a fiercely private person and I don’t want anyone knowing what I’m thinking unless I choose to tell them. You _know_ that.”

“Yes. You also belong to me—in your presence, your body, and your mind. You know this. I require you to accept my interest, in whatever form it takes. You withhold nothing from me. There are no secrets between us, Alex.”

“Then it should be no secret that I need some time alone right now,” I retorted. I dug in my heels, the only thing I could do to stop myself from kicking Tom in between his legs. Maybe if I did that, then we could _really_ talk about what _didn’t feel right._ After he’d Crucioed me into next Sunday, that is.

He held me in place a moment longer, his brow furrowed as his stare burned imaginary holes in my flesh. After a curt nod, he released me and briskly walked away.

Had my hand been stronger, I would have punched a hole in the wall. I settled for storming off to the library instead. It was downstairs, on the other side of the house, and so I had plenty of walking to do. Which was why I’d stopped painting and left my art room in the first place.

Given that the library was about half the size of the Hogwarts library, I could pace around there all bloody afternoon if I so desired. It sounded like a good plan. If I stayed still, letting the rage boil up inside me, I would probably grow furious enough to burn the house down.

Who the hell did Tom think he was? He claimed to respect me, but he had no respect for my privacy. He viewed my thoughts as a treasure trove just for him, from which he could take whatever he wanted without repercussions. I supposed I shouldn’t have been entirely surprised, given his personality, but I thought he would at least give me _some_ degree of privacy. Clearly, I had been wrong.

I plopped down on the couch by my desk with a dramatic huff, and folded my arms. My heart was still pounding, and I tapped my foot for several minutes while trying to figure out a solution.

To a degree, Tom was right that I found his interest flattering, but he was taking it too far. There was a difference between expressing interest in a partner’s thought processes and feeling entitled to that knowledge. I wondered if, following the theme of Tom respecting me, I could somehow convince him to back off with the Legilimency—at least a little bit.

A spike of fear shot through me as I imagined him refusing. How could I possibly adapt to such an arrangement? My greatest fear was having my secrets discovered, and I was now living with a man who was leaving no stone unturned. And he did so happily. What would happen if I thought about something that angered him so much that he’d lash out at me? I had nowhere to run; no one to turn to. I was completely isolated inside this house. Most of the time, I found that concept thrilling because I was so antisocial, but it was no picnic when Tom’s behavior bothered me.

When we’d gotten into little spats over winter break, I took comfort in the knowledge that I’d be returning to Hogwarts soon. I could take a breather. I could actually walk around in public without fear of being arrested. Now, it was either staying hidden in Tom’s estate, or spend my life in Azkaban for killing in self-defense—well, the Aurors wouldn’t see it as self-defense, but I certainly viewed it that way. I would never have killed Erica if she had just kept her stupid fucking mouth shut. Better yet, if that little bitch had stayed in her own dormitory instead of bothering the seventh-years.

Had she stayed in bed, or approached someone other than me, would I be in my current position? Would I have returned to America, albeit briefly, to get my bearings? Would I have stayed at Hogwarts for the graduation ceremony, pretending to be a normal student like all the others? Would Tom have sent someone to fetch me from Hogwarts to avoid making a fuss? That would have meant that I’d have gone missing in a suspected kidnapping. Therefore, anyone seeing me in public would have viewed me as a potential victim instead of a perpetrator. I despised being viewed as a victim, but I had to admit that “victim” was safer than “suspected murderer.”

Not that I could do anything about that now.

I banged my fist on the cushion. The restlessness was creeping back up my body again, but I now lacked the energy to walk it off. Although, if I’d had a glass of water nearby, I would have hurled it at the wall. Maybe I would have fixed it with a flick of my wand, Summoned it back, and continued breaking it several times until I finally felt better.

Time slowed. I sat still, staring blankly and mulling everything over in total silence for what could have been minutes or hours. It didn’t matter either way. All I wanted was to be alone.

I didn’t realize how spaced out I was until the sound of approaching footsteps jerked me back to the present moment. I looked up and saw Tom approaching. My heart thumped.

“I thought I might find you here.” He sat down beside me and stroked my hand.

I folded my arms and said nothing.

“Alex.”

“What.”

“Why so glum? You knew I was a Legilimens long before moving in with me.”

“I didn’t expect you to be looking into my mind every second. I don’t like it.”

“Why not? Did you not want a partner who knew you inside and out, wanting you for all that you are?”

“That’s not the same as taking away the privacy of my thoughts. You may find my mind interesting, but what happens if I think something that makes you angry?”

“Unless the thought is followed by a plan to betray me, I won’t punish you. I do not explore your mind in order to harm you; I do so because I find you a fascinating girl. You have captured my attention in ways I have never before experienced, and I don’t intend to limit myself with you.”

“But I don’t feel respected right now. When you respect someone, it’s not just about enjoying their company and wanting to shield them from harm. It’s also about respecting their boundaries. I don’t feel like I have any boundaries with you, and that doesn’t sit well with me. I need to be able to keep my thoughts to myself. It’s not—”

“You’re looking at this the wrong way, Alex. It’s not a question of violation, or a lack of respect; you’re simply choosing to see it that way because you’re scared.”

“Tom—!”

“You’re hoping to hide your thoughts from me as an act of self-preservation—which I know is how you conducted yourself all through your childhood. You said so yourself: you fear what I’ll do to you if your thoughts displease me. I can tell the difference between a flippant thought in the heat of the moment, and making a concrete plan to disrespect me. This knowledge should put you at ease.” He regarded me with a soft smile—not entirely warm, but not a cold smirk, either.

“Nothing about this puts me at ease. I don’t want someone to be able to read my thoughts.”

“What exactly bothers you about that? If you know I’ll never harm you as long as you’re respectful—which you are—then what are your true concerns?”

I chewed on my lip and looked at my lap. “I just—I want to be able to choose what people know about me.”

“I can understand that, but I already know everything about you, and I don’t judge you the way everyone else does. The rules don’t apply to me. So, I’ll ask you again: what are your true concerns?”

I scoffed. “I’m not comfortable with my thoughts being known before I can decide if I want to share them! It doesn’t feel right!”

“As I just said: I already know everything about you. I have since I took you home with me for winter break. Knowing this, it shouldn’t bother you that I can read your thoughts clear as day, because I’ve seen it all and I still respect you. You’re not seeing the root of your issue.”

“So why don’t you just tell me? If you’re so keen on being inside my head, why go to all the trouble of questioning me?”

“Because I want you to think for yourself. You always have; there’s no reason to let your analytical skills atrophy.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. With my frustration spiking again, how could Tom expect me to calmly analyze my reasons for wanting boundaries with him? The notion was absurd. I inhaled sharply through my nose, trying not to growl. How else could I word this and satisfy him?

“It makes me feel like I have no power over what I choose to share.”

“Correct. It’s a control issue. Since you grew up disempowered at every turn, you are desperate to control whatever you possibly can so that you don’t feel powerless. And given that you had no control over the circumstances that brought you to me, your only perceived measure of predictability is in keeping your thoughts to yourself—which you have prided yourself on doing since you were small. As long as you played the part expected of you, then you had no fear of your true nature being discovered. You found it thrilling to be able to hide in plain sight.

“But you don’t have to hide anymore. Since you are now living with someone who actually respects _you,_ and not a façade, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re afraid to let your guard down by choice. By blasting through this flimsy barrier you’ve erected, all I am doing is destroying your illusion of control. You have no power over me or my interest in you. The only control you have is in how you react to your circumstances; you cannot change what has already transpired.”

“I feel like I’m back at St. Mungo’s, getting psychoanalyzed again.”

Tom chortled. “There’s no need to feel like that. I’m not berating you or trying to change you; I am merely telling you that you’ve nothing to hide. Trying to keep me out of your mind is like trying to hide your naked body behind a glass door—making yourself look ridiculous in such a position when I’ll still see everything anyway. I know you better than anyone and I like you just fine. Allow your thoughts to flow freely. You’ll feel more relaxed than you would through trying to repress your stream of consciousness. The outcome will be the same, either way.”

“That sounds...terrifying.”

“I torture and kill without a backward glance, and you don’t even bat an eye; but my _Legilimency_ scares you? Oh, my dear girl, you’re a riot. You are utterly adorable.”

He leaned in to kiss me, but I didn’t react at all.

“Oh, come on,” he chided. “There’s no need to sulk. Accept our dynamic for what it is, and make the best of it. You’re more fortunate than you’ve ever been before; nothing will go wrong as long as you’re respectful. Don’t you trust me?”

“Tom, it’s not that I don’t trust—”

“Since I’ve entered your life, haven’t I always protected you and provided for you? Better than anyone else ever could?”

“Yes, and I’m grateful for that. I’m just not accustomed to having absolutely zero privacy. It’s really scary. It’s honestly the scariest part about all this.”

He chuckled again. “If my intimate knowledge of your mind is the only thing that scares you, then you’ll be fine. It’ll take some time, but I know you’ll grow accustomed to my attention.”

“I hope so. I’ve never dealt with anything like this before, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Just be yourself and stop worrying.”

“That was a contradictory statement.”

More laughter. “The more you grow accustomed to my presence, the easier this will be.”

I sat there stewing for another moment, and then realized he was probably right. I did have issues with control and predictability, which had been brutally thrust into the spotlight since Tom and I began living together.

I’d put up a similar fight when he’d insisted that I was attracted to him at the start of winter break—and once I’d allowed myself to acknowledge that, I couldn’t get enough of his touch. Though I didn’t secretly crave his mental invasion, I knew that resisting it would not eliminate it. If it was true that he’d never harm me as long as I respected him, then I probably didn’t have anything to fear; I just felt like a sitting target without constantly being on high alert.

But being on high alert was incredibly stressful. I wasn’t that good at going with the flow, instead trying to carve out a flow of my own, but I had no power here. Tom was right: my only power was in accepting my circumstances, which really were the best-case scenario. I couldn’t leave Tom’s estate and get a job in order to live on my own. I couldn’t turn back time and un-kill Erica in order to leave Hogwarts peacefully, like all the other graduates. I’d never encountered a Time Turner and had no wish to do so; I’d heard the horror stories. Staying present was my best option. As such, I needed to stay home with Tom. One step out in public would land me in jail.

If the price of freedom was putting up with Tom’s Legilimency, I supposed that I needed to just buck up and deal with it. He already knew all my darkest secrets, as it was. Fighting against this fact would only cost me energy that I could be expending on more productive ventures, like painting and writing and Dark Arts lessons.

To my surprise, I felt tension leave my body as I began to accept my fate. Was I thrilled about it? No...but it could have been a hell of a lot worse. And if Tom was right that I would grow accustomed to his mental intrusion, then I really would settle in just fine. Things might not be going exactly how I wanted, but I had what I _needed._ I was safe, healthy, and partnered with someone cut from the same cloth. That was better than anything I’d ever experienced before.

“That’s enough psychoanalysis for one day,” Tom murmured in my ear, and slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Stop thinking and kiss me.”


	34. Deleted Scene 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snapshot of Alex’s social life after Hogwarts, as she befriends some of the younger Death Eaters—before they find out that she’s paired up with their master. This takes place between chapters 11 and 12 of SWQ.

“You look unusually chipper,” Tom remarked after we’d Apparated home from the afternoon’s Death Eater meeting. “What’s on your mind?”

“Margo invited me over on Saturday.”

“Did she now.”

“Yes! Some of her friends will be there, and they want me to join them.”

“To do what?”

“To...you know...hang out? Talk, have tea, play a few games....”

I tried not to laugh at the absurdity of Tom’s question. ‘ _To do what?’ Really? Geez, he’s even more of a recluse than I am._

“What time did she specify?”

“Noon.”

“And how long does she want you to stay?”

“Um...I’m not sure. Do you want me to owl her and ask?”

“Well, I was planning on perfecting your Imperius Curse technique that day. Especially considering what happened the last time we tried it.”

I sighed as I recalled my unsuccessful lesson two days prior. My first attempt at the curse hadn’t fallen flat; but it hadn’t lasted long enough to make a real impact on the spider, either. And the exertion had drained me. Tom had abruptly ended the lesson and moved on to other spellwork.

“It is an important skill that all my recruits must master,” he continued. “Just like your old classes at school, your lessons with me take priority over socializing. I didn’t realize you were even interested in socializing, for that matter.”

“I—I’m sorry. Should I not have....?” I trailed off, not knowing how to finish my thought. Was he angry? Annoyed? Confused? Was I in danger?

“I reckon it wouldn’t hurt to put off until Sunday,” he replied after a moment. “I must say, I’m a bit surprised that you’re this excited at the prospect of socializing—though perhaps it’s only because it’s with other Death Eaters. Am I right?”

“Yes. I didn’t find people terribly interesting at Hogwarts. I had virtually nothing in common with my classmates, so socializing was almost always forced. It was really awkward for me. It’s nice to have an opportunity to have real friends now.”

“My little outcast has always secretly wanted to belong somewhere among her peers, hasn’t she. I suppose that urge never truly faded, now did it.”

“I—I suppose....” My stomach clenched and I stared at my fingernails.

I thought it best to keep my mouth closed; I also didn’t want to display how much his words had stung. Having lived with him for about a month, I wondered when I’d start to grow accustomed to his snarky comments—not anytime soon, more than likely.

“I won’t have you turning into a little social butterfly, you understand. You’re not to look to my other followers for validation or emotional security. Your place is by my side.”

“I—I’m not...it’s not about placating insecurities! It’s just for _fun._ And you _know_ I’m far from a social butterfly; I just think it would be nice, once in a while, to see friends I can actually relate to. Does that—does that bother you?!”

He looked at a spot on the wall behind me, pressing his lips together.

It was hard not to start chewing on my lip. I’d never had issues with his possessiveness before, but this behavior was straight-up _controlling._ I guess I hadn’t noticed it before, when I’d had no desire to leave the house outside of meetings; but I was beginning to finally relax for the first time in my life. I wanted to branch out a bit, having been denied such opportunities as a child.

I didn’t think there would be a problem with me going out for fun—especially since Tom wasn’t exactly clingy. We didn’t spend every waking moment together, hanging off of each other like lovesick fools; most of our time was spent on Dark Arts training, eating meals together, and talking a bit before falling asleep. Sometimes we’d sit on the couch and read together without speaking. The rest of the time, we engaged in solitary pursuits in separate rooms. And so his reaction to Margo’s invitation confused me even further.

He trailed his fingertips down my cheek and tilted my chin up. “You may socialize with them if you so desire, but you will not accept any invitations without my permission. You are not to step one foot outside their properties when you visit them. And if I tell you to be home by a certain time, you will do so. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Tom.”

“Good. I want you home more often than not—partly because you _are_ a fugitive and I can’t have you roaming around in public, and also because you’re not on a perpetual vacation here. Since you don’t have to work, and you _did_ promise to serve me when you took the Mark, you must accept that I require your presence the majority of the time; you know I train you more than any of the others. You are my most valuable asset, and you must conduct yourself as such.”

“I understand. So...may I go, on Saturday?”

“Yes. As long as you don’t reveal any damning information—your living arrangements, our location, why you don’t work, et cetera.”

“What if they ask me about...us? I’m sure they all suspect something by now.”

He smirked. “Of course they do. They’ve suspected from the beginning, when I reprimanded Chicky for her glitter antics. But they’ll only know for sure when I choose to tell them.”

“Do you know when you might do that?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Our private life is not their business, anyway. They can speculate all they want in the meantime. For all intents and purposes, you are single and living alone in a safehouse, painting and journaling to occupy yourself until further notice.”

“All right. I’ll remember that.”

“Good. And I’ll expect exemplary results of your Imperius Curse the following day. Now, let’s have dinner.”

* * *

It felt awkward to have to ask Tom’s permission to visit friends, like a teenager asking her parents for permission to stay out after curfew. I’d never had a curfew outside of Hogwarts, having had no social life growing up, and I wasn’t sure what to make of Tom’s new rules. Given his rigidity and possessiveness, I wasn’t entirely surprised, but still a bit aggravated that I couldn’t assert myself over such a minor issue. He wasn’t a parental figure and certainly didn’t act like one; but he obviously wasn’t my equal, either. Still, as much as that fact aggravated me at times, I had to remember to be grateful. I likely would have fared so much worse in life without him.

I walked with a spring in my step on Saturday morning. I felt a bit lighter on my feet as I wondered what my first social event as an adult would feel like.

“You’re cute when you’re excited,” Tom teased. He’d poked his head into the upstairs bathroom as I was applying lipstick, and he gave a small smile while meeting my eyes in the mirror. I returned the gesture.

“Be home by nine,” he instructed, tucking my hair behind my ear as I was preparing to Disapparate. “I’ll want to hear all about it.”

“I will.”

_CRACK._

I Apparated and landed in front of Margo’s house. Looking around cautiously, I saw no one else—it felt strange to be outside, and not within the confines of Tom’s property. I knew there wasn’t a target on my back, here in this secluded area, but I still felt exposed. There was a knot in my stomach and a whisper of apprehension prickling across my skin.

I knocked on the door and breathed a sigh of relief when Margo answered a few seconds later.

“Hi, Alex!” She pulled me into a hug. “Come in! Lulu and Sheena are already here.”

I followed Margo inside and looked around. Her house was a mark of wealth, but not of extravagance: expensive furniture, but not too much of it. Spacious rooms, but no frivolous trinkets. Everything had a practical purpose.

She also had a decent-sized library with various books on the Dark Arts and magical theory. I was about to ask her about one of the books when a loud _SQUAWK_ interrupted the conversation.

“Ugh, hold on,” Margo sighed as she hurried into the hallway. “Falcon! Stop making such a ruckus! I just fed you.”

I was already lost in the thick volume when Margo reentered the library. “Hey, you can read at home!” she chuckled, clapping me on the back. “You’re here to spend time with us. Come on.”

After returning the book to its shelf, I followed Margo into the parlor, where the other girls were sipping tea. Sofia had apparently walked in while I was in the library, slinking through the house like the quiet, soft-spoken soul she always was. No one seemed to mind.

“What have I missed?” I asked everyone as I sat down on one of the couches. Margo’s house elf set a mug of tea on the coffee table in front of me.

“Not much,” Sheena replied. “We were just talking about the joke shop. Chicky’s been thinking about hiring someone else, because we’re practically in over our heads. People must really want a laugh these days.”

“Ohh, yeah!” I drawled. “All that _horrible_ Death Eater activity must be driving everyone _mental.”_

“Yes, _indeed!”_ exclaimed Lulu. “If only they knew who was _running_ that bloody joke shop.”

Everyone chuckled.

“Who’s talking about the joke shop without me?” came a loud female voice from the foyer.

“Chicky, stop shouting and get your glittery arse in here!” Sheena called out.

More giggles.

“Ahh, look, it’s the new girl!” Chicky teased as she flounced into the parlor and sat down next to me. She draped an arm around me and squeezed my shoulder. “Where did you come from, by the way?”

“Um...America—”

“No, no, silly! I mean where do you live _now._ Obviously, you’re American with that goofy accent.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed, and gave her a light shove.

“Don’t mind her,” Margo assured me. “She takes the piss out of everyone.”

“I noticed!” I laughed.

“So yeah, where’d you go after Hogwarts?” Chicky prodded, finally removing her hand from my person. “We all heard you fled. You saw the newspaper, right?”

I pretended to feel mildly annoyed. “Yeah, I saw it all. I live in a safehouse. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you where.”

“Fidelius charm?”

“Yup.”

“So what do you do all day, if you don’t mind me asking?” Lulu inquired. “Do you just paint?”

“Mostly, and I write in my journal. It’s a bit boring sometimes, but better than being locked up for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“So, you really don’t know who killed that girl Erica?”

“Nope. Don’t know; don’t care. As long as I’m safe, I couldn’t care less who’s responsible.”

“Fair enough,” Margo remarked. “Who’s up for Wizard’s Chess?”

“Aww, we played that last weekend!” Chicky whined, before reaching into her robe pockets. “I brought some—”

“Chicky, you keep your bloody joke shop products out of my house! I will _not_ have that shit ruining my carpet a second time.”

“Wait, what?” I asked. “What happened?”

Margo rolled her eyes. “A few weeks ago, Chicky thought it would be funny to bring over this glowing black glass skull she had invented for the joke shop. She told me she just wanted me to see how pretty it was...but she neglected to inform me that it spewed enchanted glitter all over anyone who touched the top of its head...and their three-meter radius. You can guess what happened.”

“I certainly can! How long did it take to clean up?”

“Between my spells and my elf’s magic, three days. It was a nightmare.”

Chicky smirked triumphantly.

“Exploding Snap sounds better,” Sofia offered. “I brought a deck with me.”

And with no subsequent objections, we began to play.

Sofia was the best at the game, with Sheena not far behind. My skill was mediocre at best, as I’d had little experience, but I enjoyed myself nonetheless. For me, it was less about ability and more about having fun in a social atmosphere where I could actually be myself.

Tom was right: I did get a thrill out of being invited somewhere, and not as a last resort. I bit my lip as his taunt surfaced in my mind; hopefully, he wouldn’t hold my troubled past over my head too often.

Sofia nudged me. “You all right?”

“Yeah! What do you mean?”

“You just looked sad all of a sudden. Your face fell.”

“It did? Oh—okay. I guess I was just concentrating too hard. I’m a bit competitive.”

“Ahh, yes. We’re all a little cutthroat, aren’t we.”

“Can’t argue with that!” I flashed her a grin instead of growling in annoyance.

_Leave it to the Healer to notice any small shift in someone’s body language. Like I don’t deal with that enough at home with Lord Legilimency._

We played cards for an hour, and then the elf brought us lunch.

I mostly remained quiet while Lulu and Margo talked about their Ministry work—infiltrating the government on Tom’s orders was apparently a lot more tedious than they’d anticipated. Like socializing during my Hogwarts days, I preferred to sit back and observe rather than do most of the talking.

I learned that Lulu was cozying up to an Auror named Gurv Crouch, with whom she had butted heads when she’d first joined the Ministry a few years ago. Even though Tom had been furious with her for attracting the Auror’s attention with her childish behavior, she had since matured and was using her new “friendship” with Gurv to divert his attention while other insiders gathered forbidden information to pass on to Tom. Being beautiful and flirtatious, I had no problem picturing Lulu’s feminine wiles distracting even the most suspicious of men. But I kept that thought to myself.

Margo was also busy, working alongside Lucius. Though she often kept her head down at work, she had recently killed an Auror who had been growing suspicious of her political leanings. She’d been subjected to intense scrutiny since Lucius’s stint in Azkaban, simply because of her surname, and thus had to remain unusually alert in her professional life. Being no stranger to unfairly harsh scrutiny, I could certainly empathize.

I couldn’t empathize with much else, however. After I talked a bit about the prejudice I’d faced at Hogwarts, which Margo understood too well, the discussion turned to more personal matters. And I was very glad I’d come prepared.

Lulu was apparently quite the charmer, and had exactly six suitors vying for her affections. She insisted that she had simply yet to decide on a husband—really, I think she just enjoyed having so many men to choose from all at once. She certainly got around, as the saying went.

Sheena told us that she was seeing a young man who was a longtime regular at the joke shop, and their anniversary was approaching. Chicky had been taunting her business partner with wedding songs for a few weeks. And she now started up again at the mention of her antics. Lulu and Margo joined in.

“So, Alex, are _you_ seeing anyone?” Sheena asked me, her tone and pointed stare making it clear that she was done with all the teasing.

“Oh, no,” I laughed casually, prepared to interject some disarming self-deprecating humor. “I can’t do much while living in a safehouse; and anyway, men find me too intimidating. I’ll probably die alone at this rate.”

Everyone chuckled.

“I have no problem picturing you scaring men off,” Sheena replied. “I’m pretty sure the only man who doesn’t find you intimidating is the Dark Lord.”

I blinked. _That_ was not a comment I had anticipated hearing.

“Well, I mean—I doubt he finds anyone intimidating. It’s got nothing to do with _me_.”

Sheena winked at me. “Hey, you never know; maybe _he_ has a crush on you.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sofia mumbled under her breath.

“Excuse me?”

The Healer smirked. “Just an observation. If he does fancy you, I’m sure he’ll let you know.”

I shifted in my seat and said nothing, figuring the conversation would turn on its own. And then I felt a nudge on my left arm.

“You know you’d have to tell us what he’s like in bed.”

“Chicky!!”

“What? You can’t expect us to believe he’d be all into plain vanilla sex and red roses and heart-shaped chocolates and—”

_“Chicky!!”_

“I can totally picture it,” Lulu chimed in. “He tells you to stay behind after a meeting, and you’re shaking in your boots because you think you’re in trouble; but instead, he slams you onto the table and—”

“What?! Absolutely _not!_ That is so—”

“All right, I think we’re making her a little _too_ uncomfortable,” Margo remarked, though she was snickering as much as the others while I gaped incredulously. “Can I trust you lunatics _not_ to embarrass her half to death while I go check on Falcon?”

“Not making any promises!” Chicky taunted, tickling my shoulder and grinning conspiratorially. I smirked and rolled my eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” Sofia announced. “I haven’t seen that crazy bird in a while.” She followed Margo out of the parlor without another word.

“You know, I think I will as well!” I added, and stood up before Chicky could taunt me further. “I’ve never even met Falcon.”

“Get ready for a laugh!” Sheena giggled. “That bird is bloody insane.”

That bird _was_ bloody insane. He and Margo were having a veritable screaming match when I entered his room, with Margo responding as if the bird were merely speaking a foreign language that she understood.

“What do you think he’s saying to her?” I asked Sofia. There was no sense in asking Margo; the blonde was focused solely on her feathered friend.

“Who the hell knows,” she muttered. “No one understands him but her.”

When the shouting and squawking died down, Margo had calmed the bird enough that I could reach through the cage and pet him. After which he appeared to stick his tongue out at me.

“Did he seriously just do what I th—”

“He does pull faces, yes,” Margo laughed. “I love it. I’ve never seen such a talented bird.”

“Um—sure.”

“What? Have you _ever_ seen a bird smart enough to pull faces? Come on.”

“I certainly haven’t!” I drawled with phony awe. “He is _quite_ the entertainer.”

We all teased Margo about her pet for little while longer before returning to the parlor, where we talked for a few more hours. When I glanced at the clock and realized my “curfew” was approaching, I faked a yawn and told the girls I was tired. They were sad to see me leave early, but didn’t put up a fight.

* * *

“Ah, there’s my Little Miss Popular,” Tom teased as I strolled into the foyer. Setting down his book, he stood up from his chair and kissed me. “How was it?”

“It was fun! They’re a really cool group of people. I like them.”

“And they certainly like you, to have kept you there all day. I wonder if they would have wanted you to stay that long, if they’d known of your sleeping arrangements.”

“Well,” I chuckled. “It’s funny you mention that because Chicky—”

He cupped my face and stared into my eyes. The girls’ taunts about Tom’s attention flashed through my mind, and he snickered.

“Mm, a rather enjoyable image,” he drawled as we walked upstairs. “Perhaps I could orchestrate such an event, just to see how much the girls would tease you after the fact. I can see it clearly: _Alex, please stay behind for a moment. I have a private matter to discuss with you._ ”

“You can’t be s—”

“I absolutely _would_ enjoy taking you on the table, you know. I have no reservations about it.”

I gaped at him as he opened the bedroom door and slammed me against the wall.

“Perhaps I wouldn’t even cast a Silencing spell, and simply trust you to keep quiet. The others certainly couldn’t do anything to _me_ if they knew I was ravishing you in the meeting room—but oh, the fun they would have at _your_ expense. I’d love to be a fly on the wall during such a discussion.”

“No, I really don’t want to—”

“It would be a practical test of your self-control; not merely a physical release. And you know, the more I think about it, the better it sounds. You’re always looking to improve your mental discipline, are you not?”

I stared at my feet, trying to mask my mortification. “I—I thought you didn’t want them to know that we were together yet.”

“Correct. But that doesn’t mean there’s any harm in their suspecting that you shudder beneath me almost every night. At least _I_ won’t have to deal with the teasing. And anyway, you’re accustomed to being taunted. You surely can fire back a smart retort or two?”

“Come on, really?”

“Really. And speaking of our bedroom habits, I’d like a round or two with my girl. Now.”

I knew better than to argue.


	35. Deleted Scene 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom follows through on his plan to “test Alex’s discipline” in the Death Eater meeting room.

I began tensing up at the end of each Death Eater gathering, wondering if Tom was actually going to follow through with his decision to expand our bedroom forays into the meeting room. Sometimes I thought he would actually do it, and other times I thought he’d just made an empty threat to rile me up. He was a sadist in more ways than one—sometimes I found it enjoyable; sometimes infuriating. Right now, it was the latter. If he’d at least decided it was going to happen, then I would have been able to mentally prepare myself, but he insisted on pretending nothing was amiss.

Three meetings had passed since I’d visited Margo and the others, with no change in Tom’s behavior other than the occasional lewd stare. I wondered if my friends were now watching us, trying to spot any signs of sexual chemistry, or if they had simply jumped on the train of Sheena’s taunt because it had amused them in the moment. Maybe, if I was lucky, they’d forgotten all about the conversation and were now focused on more important issues.

Either way, my stomach still clenched at the end of Meeting Number Four, when Tom’s voice stopped the flow of foot traffic out of the meeting room.

“Alex, please stay behind for a moment. I have a private matter to discuss with you.”

His intense stare scorched my face and turned my stomach at the same time. I bit my lip and glared at my lap, pointedly keeping my gaze away from the faces of my snickering friends as they pushed through the double doors and left me alone with Tom. He, too, pretended he couldn’t hear the giggles until everyone had left.

“You can’t be serious,” I sighed, pleading with my eyes for him to be joking. He was not.

“Sit on the table,” he ordered, rising and walking toward me.

“Tom, I really don’t want to—”

He drew his wand. “We can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. Do you want to get fucked under the Cruciatus Curse? They’ll all certainly hear _that_.”

Biting back a vicious retort, I reluctantly hopped up onto the table. Tom’s wand was still trailed on me. He ran the tip down the side of my face, sneering as I winced.

“Unfasten your robe and lift your skirt.”

“Tom—”

“One more hesitation, and I curse you. Lift your skirt _now.”_

I complied.

Finally putting his wand away, he grinned wickedly and ripped my panties in half. I anxiously looked toward the door when I felt his fingers probing.

“What if someone walks in?” I whispered, biting my lip as my core warmed.

“They wouldn’t dare,” he drawled against my neck, kissing and biting the skin as his fingers continued pumping. “None of them will ever risk entering this room until after I leave. The Malfoys have no power in this house as long as I’m here.”

Though his words made me relax a hair, I still didn’t like being in this position. The table was too hard against my behind, and I couldn’t get comfortable—physically or emotionally. I didn’t want to give in to Tom, but I was already clinging to him and burying my face in his robes as he coaxed my body over the edge. I was grateful that the fabric muffled my cries, as soft as they were.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised. “Now lie down.”

I looked toward the doorway again as I carefully lay on the table. “Is it locked?”

“No.” He made a show of slipping his fingers in his mouth and signaling how much he loved the taste.

“What if—”

“As I said at home: no locking spell; no silencing spell. I trust you to keep quiet—unless, of course, you want to broadcast the result of my intimate talents. I won’t object either way.”

He was inside me a moment later.

I adored and despised him then—I loved how much he desired me, and hated his deliberate disdain for my privacy. As much as I tried to enjoy the feel of him, knowing I had no choice in the matter, I was too nervous about being discovered. Tom only used that to his advantage, pounding harder than ever while gripping my face to prevent me from sneaking more surreptitious glances toward the door.

“Only me,” he hissed through labored breaths. “You focus on nothing else but me when we’re together.”

Not wanting to risk enduring the Cruciatus, I obeyed. I gripped his shoulders and once more pressed my face against his robes as my body quaked, only emitting a strangled whimper before going limp.

“I’ll grant you one small favor,” he said after we cleaned up and adjusted our clothing. “You may leave the Manor before me, so no one will see us walking out together. How you choose to present yourself afterwards is your decision.”

“I’d rather not have to _present myself_ at all. I don’t exactly feel like talking to anyone right now.”

“Oh? But you look so glum; you should go spend some time with your friends. They’re all downstairs waiting for you.”

“What?!”

“They’re anxious to hear all about what just happened in here. You can appease their curiosity if you want, or make something up. Or ignore them altogether. It doesn’t matter.”

I nodded curtly and strode out of the meeting room with a scowl.

“Well, _there_ she is!” Chicky teased as I rounded the stairs. She was sitting in a room downstairs with Margo and Sheena, who were all looking something between amused and apprehensive.

I nodded to my friends, but continued walking.

“Hey, come back!” Sheena called out. “What’s with that scowl?”

I sighed and turned back around. “Sorry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind. What’s up?”

“What did the Dark Lord want?” she asked, lowering her voice almost to a whisper.

“He wanted to talk to me about one of my assignments. It’s not going so well.”

“Does that assignment include clothing or not?” Chicky jeered.

“Oh, shut up.” I willed myself not to grin or blush. Given how aggravated I was with Tom, this was fairly easy.

“What’s the assignment?” asked Margo, who actually seemed to believe me.

“If he wanted you to know, he’d tell you. I don’t fancy getting cursed for disobeying him. He’s annoyed with me enough as it is.”

“I can’t blame you there,” Margo conceded. “Are you—all right? Are you safe?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing like that. He’s just a bit...displeased.” _That I didn’t scream his name for all of you to hear._

“We’ve all been there. I hope everything works out.”

“But you’ll tell us about the assignment afterwards, right?” Chicky pressed.

“Maybe.”

“Aw, you’re no fun!”

“Yeah, I know. So...I’m gonna go home now.”

“All right, bye!”

Even though I wanted to punch the wall, I neutralized my facial expression and walked out of the room as non-aggressively as I could. Until another voice startled me.

“Afternoon, ladies.”

I didn’t need to look behind me to know that Tom was smirking triumphantly; the victorious, arrogant tone in his voice gave him away. And since he _had_ told me I could leave without him, I ignored his presence and stalked out of the Manor as fast as possible.

“Ugh!” I growled after shutting the front door, taking care not to slam it loudly. No longer worrying about an audience, walking turned to stomping as I marched across the lawn. The nearby peacocks scattered in fright.

A firm hand grabbed my arm and whirled me around when I was inches from the edge of the property. I yelped.

“You have some nerve, young lady!” Tom barked.

“What?! You said I could leave without you! Why are you being like this?”

“After you blatantly ignored me inside, I changed my mind,” he snapped gruffly. “Leaving the meeting room without me is one thing; but pretending I’m not five feet from you is another. I do not tolerate such disrespect from anyone; not even you.”

I opened my mouth, but he wasn’t done.

“I do not move about on your terms, Alex. If you really didn’t want anyone to see us leave together, you could have simply told the girls you were not feeling sociable and walked away. I gave you plenty of time to leave on your own, and you instead chose to fraternize and thus give me time to catch up to you.

“Who else could get away with what you just did?! Can you truly picture any other Death Eaters escaping unscathed after giving me their backs like bratty teenagers? You’re lucky I didn’t torture you right there in the hallway—or _take_ you, for that matter—in front of everyone!”

My mouth hung open. I shifted on my feet and stared at the ground, and made to walk away a few paces. Tom grabbed my robes and pulled me back to him.

“Don’t you dare turn away from me,” he growled. “We’ll continue this discussion at home.”

* * *

Tom didn’t say a word after we Disapparated; he merely grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the living room. I flumped onto the couch with a huff and folded my arms.

“Still want to act like a bratty teenager, do you?” he scolded as he sat down beside me.

I threw up my hands and turned to face him. “What do you want me to do right now? Get on my knees and beg forgiveness? I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong!”

“You’re always welcome to get on your knees before me, regardless of the reason, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is that your deliberate disrespect angered me, and I require an apology.”

“I’m sorry, Tom,” I sighed, trying not to look as aggravated as I felt.

He reached forward and tilted my chin up. “Are you?”

I looked at him incredulously. What else could I have said?

“Alex, I absolutely gave you special treatment back there. To allow you to ignore me in front of your comrades—do you even realize how lucky you are; how valued you are, to have gotten away with that? Mind you, you will not get away with it a second time, but still: you should not take for granted how important you are to me, or our relationship will take quite a dramatic turn—to a dynamic you will not enjoy.”

“I know.”

“Do you appreciate my leniency? Will you be careful to not take our relationship for granted?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I promise that was never my intention.”

“So what _was_ your intention?”

“I just didn’t want to talk!” I scoffed. “I didn’t want to fake happiness. I wasn’t thinking, _Ohh, let me show everyone how I can give him an attitude and get away with it!_ I was just pissed off and I wasn’t in the mood to pretend everything was fine. I promise I don’t set out to disrespect you. And in case you’ve forgotten, I take _nothing_ for granted. You know how I was raised, and how hard it still is for me to actually believe it when something good happens to me. I was just annoyed when I left the meeting room and I wanted to process everything silently. I wasn’t...flipping you off.”

“Well, it certainly seemed that way. And regardless of your intentions, you still cannot act like that. I need your word that such an episode will not happen again.”

“Fine. And I would like _your_ word that you won’t fuck me on the meeting room table again.”

“So we’ll do it against the wall next time?”

“You know what I mean,” I grumbled, trying not to laugh. He snickered and slipped his arm around my shoulders. Neither of us spoke for a while.

“If you’re that insistent on not talking now, then we’ll just read. _Accio.”_ He Summoned the books we’d each been reading the day before, and we settled back on the couch.

The man aggravated me so much sometimes. He made me want to scream and tear my hair out. And as much as his power aroused me when we were alone, I still hated it whenever he took it too far.

Okay, so I’d continued walking after hearing him behind me—what was the big deal? I was sure the girls had all but forgotten the exchange by now, remembering my words more than my lack of them after Tom had appeared in the hallway. He really was quite melodramatic.

Still, I did enjoy his company most of the time; we had a lot of chemistry in and out of the bedroom, and we could talk about pretty much any subject for hours. I supposed these little snags here and there were to be expected, but I hoped they would diminish in frequency as time passed and I grew more accustomed to Tom’s formidable presence. Though we’d been together almost a year, we’d only lived under the same roof for a few months. Adjustments to new living arrangements led to spats in any relationship, no matter each party’s temperament—or status as a powerful Dark wizard—so I tried to look at these arguments as regular bumps in the road that would eventually smooth over. He would hopefully lighten up a bit after a while as I learned to better navigate his moods, and I wouldn’t get quite so wound up when he was being petty.

For now, though, I simply wanted to relax and read my book. And Tom thankfully wanted the same. Perhaps the second half of this day would pass better than the first.


	36. Deleted Scene 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This follows the theme of Deleted Scene 6, but after all the Death Eaters have learned of the upcoming wedding.

“So now you know you _have_ to tell us: _did_ he shag you in the meeting room that time he asked you to stay behind?”

I rolled my eyes, feeling an unwanted grin creeping onto my face.

Margo sighed and slammed a few gold nuggets into Chicky’s hand.

I gestured to the bizarre exchange. “What—what was _that_ about?”

“Chicky bet me five Galleons that’s what you two were doing in there.”

“SERIOUSLY?!”

Everyone laughed.

“And you all knew about this?!”

More laughter.

“You guys suck, you know that?”

As annoyed as I was, my friends’ humor was infectious and I was soon giggling as much as they were.

We were sitting in the parlor, drinking tea and chatting about how much fun we’d had at the wedding and New Year’s party. My friends had given me warm hugs as soon as I’d arrived at Margo’s house, showering me with congratulations as much as inappropriate jokes. The year 2006 was certainly off to a good start.

The girls seemed to have felt some apprehension upon seeing me when I first walked in, now that I was technically their superior—their posture straightened a bit and their grins faded ever so slightly—but I reminded them that our dynamic would never change as long as they were respectful. They all breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing as they’d already gotten to know me in a casual environment, and we’d not yet had a Death Eater meeting since Tom and I had announced our wedding, nothing had really shifted in my group of friends. The only difference is that they were now calling me Alera instead of Alex. A most welcome change.

I felt more at peace, more myself after changing my first name and taking Tom’s last name. It had never occurred to me to feel either pride or disgust over my family name, but my opinion changed once Tom had taken me under his wing. Being with him, as unnerving as it sometimes was, had allowed me to find my place—my place by his side, and my place in the Dark magic community. Changing my name had felt like a rite of passage. The final layer of the old skin I’d been shedding since Tom had claimed me.

I wasn’t the only person who had noticed my transformation. Sofia, the freakishly observant mental health Healer, remarked that I was now speaking and acting differently. She said that my voice was clearer, and my posture more relaxed. I appeared more in control of myself. She clarified that I’d never seemed unhinged; but she’d also sensed a thick layer of insecurity under my confidence, which had seemed to melt away after entering my marriage.

I was initially offended by the insinuation that it took getting married to make me feel better about myself—I was not a 1950s housewife waiting for my handsome prince to swoop in and grant me my self-worth—but I’d apparently misunderstood her. It wasn’t the concept of marriage that had improved my demeanor, she said; it was that settling in with Tom had given me space to flourish in a way that my toxic childhood had prevented. It was my change in environment allowing me to attain a healthier headspace. She’d noticed the shedding of my old identity as much as I had.

Merlin, she was certainly a mental health professional for a reason. She could psychoanalyze anyone down to their bones.

As unnerving as it was to be so clearly seen, I suddenly realized that I was only anxious because being seen had made me unsafe in the past. But the people sitting around me were not judging me—they were paying attention because they liked me. They respected me. Like anyone making a new friend, they simply wanted to get to know me better.

I didn’t know what to make of this development. It reminded me of the way I’d felt the night before stealing into Knockturn Alley during my seventh year at Hogwarts. I’d been lying in bed, thinking about how everything I’d endured had led me to that point in my life, of which I had been dreaming for ages: the day I would take my first step into the adult world of Dark magic. I’d spent so many years wondering what would happen, and when the moment finally arrived, it was a shock to the system. I wasn’t accustomed to getting my way.

As such, having like-minded friends was something I’d only ever daydreamed about as a child. Now that such events were suddenly in present time, I felt even more caught off-guard. I articulated this to the other girls as best I could. Reactions were mixed.

Lulu couldn’t empathize. She’d always been wealthy and popular, quietly sailing through life until a few years ago: Tom had begun pressuring her parents to discipline her better, in order to prepare her for her Death Eater initiation. She told me that she’d struggled for a while, but eventually fell in line. However, she didn’t appear to look down on me as a former outcast; she merely found my situation curious. A small part of her might have gotten a kick out of hearing about the way my Hogwarts classmates had treated me, because she could never resist the urge to feel superior to others—especially after her parents had sent her a Howler at school, and then Tom had punished her a few times—but she did like me, and so she kept that mean streak to herself. Of course, my marriage to Tom gave her a more compelling reason to behave, but I knew she wasn’t only respecting me out of fear. And as someone who also got a kick out of seeing others in pain, I couldn’t entirely blame Lulu.

Margo had more to offer than her posh best friend. She had grown up privy to both sides of society: the Pureblood socialite culture, and the sensation of not belonging. She’d fallen in with Lulu and the others very quickly upon arriving at Hogwarts, but she’d felt ostracized at home because she couldn’t relate to her relatives—she was more pragmatic and less focused on frivolous wealth, having being orphaned at a young age before moving in with Lucius and Narcissa. Like me, she’d begun her education with a more somber outlook than most of her peers. And so she understood me better than the others.

In what I perceived as a very un-Death Eaterish moment, I smiled wryly and conceded that it felt really nice to belong somewhere I could actually be myself. I didn’t think I’d ever said something so sappy before, but Margo reminded me that most Death Eaters weren’t _completely_ heartless—they had friends and lovers and families they cared for; they simply had a more profound darkness inside them. They’d learned to strike the proper balance between their personal lives and their responsibilities to Tom. Just like I had been doing for a while now.

Sofia admitted that everyone in the room had succumbed to a few emotional moments over the years—some of which had been far more intense than mine. Chicky did not appreciate Sofia’s using her first breakup as an example. “You would have been sobbing, too, if your first love had cheated on you!” she protested.

Sofia found it amusing that what I’d considered _softness_ was what most people considered _barely scratching the surface of vulnerability._ “You may have your moments, but you are _not_ soft, Alera!” she insisted. “Trust me; I’m a Healer. I psychoanalyze people all day long!” We all laughed.

Chicky and Sheena then announced that they were taking on the role of Guard Dog. They’d behaved this way at Hogwarts, jumping in and shouting hexes at any adversary daring to come for their friends, and they were now extending that protection to me. I was one of them. Dark Lady or not, I was part of their group. They promised that if anyone ever tried to harm me, be it an Auror or a jealous Death Eater, there would be hell to pay. A very pink and glittery hell. (Of course I couldn’t tell them that Tom had already hurt me worse than they could have ever imagined, but he was also the Dark Lord. No one was allowed to question him. And anyway, I’d gotten better at toeing the line with him, and so I’d avoided excessive punishment since the summer. My winning streak would come to a screeching halt if I told the girls about the episode with the globe.)

Fighting down the shadow of the terror I’d felt when Tom had almost killed me for screaming at him, I now felt compelled to tell my friends the truth about how I’d left Hogwarts and disappeared. I waited for a lull in the conversation, and then dropped the bomb.

“So now that you’ve all made the Unbreakable Vow to keep my secrets, I feel no apprehension in telling you that I killed Erica and fled Hogwarts.”

Chicky nearly choked on her tea. “WHAT?!” she sputtered. “You little sneak! Merlin’s beard, you lied to my face and didn’t even bat an eye. I believed every word!”

“We all did,” muttered Sofia, obviously annoyed that she hadn’t seen through my tale.

“All right, so now you’ve got to tell us the whole story,” Margo insisted, grinning conspiratorially. “Start from the beginning.”

“Okay, well, first of all, I hadn’t planned on doing it. It was self-defense.”

“Mhm, sure....” Sofia mumbled, with her lips turned slightly upward.

“Hey! I didn’t just march over to her and attack her; I would’ve been locked up if I’d let her live.”

“Why?”

“Because the nosy little bitch invaded the seventh-year girls’ dormitory, after the other fourth-years shooed her away. She wanted someone to talk to. Why she came to me, of all people, I’ll never know, but she did...and she rolled up my pajama sleeve and saw my Dark Mark.”

They all gasped.

“I warned her not to tell anyone. I gave her a chance!”

“How? By telling her you’d only cut off her arm instead of her tongue?” Sheena drawled.

“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t have laid a finger on her if she had stayed away from my dorm room.”

Sheena lightly shoved me. “I know, hon. I’m just teasing you. So, what did she do—threaten to tell everyone that you were a Death Eater?”

“She _did_ tell everyone.”

“Merlin!” Lulu gasped. “Are you serious?! And she really thought you wouldn’t retaliate? How daft was she?!”

“Extremely. She actually screamed at the top of her lungs, ‘Alex Halaway is a Death Eater.’ It was fucking ridiculous.”

“Oh, good grief!” Chicky spat. “I wish I’d been able to take a crack at her.”

I laughed humorlessly. “There was no time. I Obliviated her, but then my Housemate Amy—the girl I framed—woke up and realized what had happened. I had to Obliviate her, too.”

“Quick thinking!” Margo praised. “Did you Obliviate all the others as well?”

“No; that would have been too suspicious. I cast a spell to put everyone back to sleep, and then killed Erica with Amy’s wand. I positioned her wand in her hand afterwards, and then fled to Hogsmeade. Luckily, my protective husband was keeping an eye on me and he was able to take me home. I never looked back.”

“Were you...scared?” Lulu asked. “That sounds dreadful.”

“Yeah, I was. My heart was in my throat. All I had was my wand and a Disillusionment charm, and I was in my fucking pajamas. I left Hogwarts through a secret passageway, and got as far as Hogsmeade before—”

“He was waiting for you??”

“No, but he was using some very advanced magic to keep an eye on me. He Apparated to my location and took me home immediately.”

“You weren’t kidding about being in a safe house,” Sofia commented after we’d all been silent for a while. “I can’t think of any house safer than the Dark Lord’s. I suppose you’re not allowed to tell us where you reside?”

“Correct. He’d have my head if I did.”

“If I may say so, he’ll probably have your _something else_ when you get home tonight,” Chicky taunted.

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh.

“But honestly, Alera—you just...dropped off the face of the Earth, according to the _Prophet,”_ Lulu added. “I mean, we all knew you were fine because you were coming to meetings and acting normal, but...how did you adjust? Did the Dark Lord plan on having to rescue you?”

“Yes and no. He’d already decided that he wanted to marry me, and had a few loose plans on how to have me move in with him after I graduated, but what ended up happening was completely unprecedented. Luckily, he’d developed some advanced Summoning charms, which allowed him to bring all my belongings into his home. The house elves helped me unpack, and then I just...settled in, over the next few weeks. It was actually pretty peaceful.”

“Do you ever miss your family?”

“No.”

“...Not even a little bit?”

“Not even a little bit. I don’t think they ever loved me; only the person they were trying to turn me into. I couldn’t wait to get out of their house. It wasn’t a home. Not to me, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“My parents were always breathing down my neck, criticizing my every move. And my sister was too meek and perfect to ever stand up for me. Anytime I got into a scrape, with her or anyone at Hogwarts, my parents automatically assumed it was my fault and they never wanted to hear my side of the story. They never took me seriously. Even when I was being bullied, they acted like I had brought it on myself and then exaggerated how bad the harassment was, just to get sympathy and avoid accountability for my actions. And then they wondered why I ended up attracted to Dark magic and other ways to hurt people.”

A hush fell over the room.

“All right, I think we need some levity after that depressing tale,” Margo announced as she stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

A minute later, she rejoined the group with Falcon perched on her shoulder. I giggled at the sight. It was nice to see him in his normal, more easily contained form—a stark contrast to the lanky, rambunctious young man gallivanting about inside Malfoy Manor a few nights earlier.

“Hi, Falcon,” I enunciated clearly. “You look quite different from the last time we spoke! And you’ve got no room in your talons for all those tortilla chips.”

A loud _SQUAWK!_ pierced my ears. Everyone flinched, and then laughed when the bird flew off of Margo’s shoulder and landed atop the coffee table in front of me, with his head cocked to one side. It looked as if he were daring me to challenge him. I was not in the mood. I folded my arms and stared him down, a ghost of a smirk on my face.

“You wanna try something?” I asked him. “It won’t end well. Not for you, at any rate.”

He almost seemed to whine in protest, until Margo strode over and pressed his beak closed.

“Falcon, sweetie, this is the future Dark Lady you’re speaking to,” Margo chided, while stroking his feathers. “Be nice. You don’t want the Dark Lord to be angry with us, now do you?”

“The Dark Lord would be the least of his concerns,” Chicky warned in a mocking threat. “His biggest problem would be the glitter that wouldn’t leave his body for the next week.”

“No, NO!” Margo held up her hands. Her eyes widened in alarm. “First of all, you know I hate that; and second, Falcon would LOVE another reason to cause mayhem!”

“Okay, I think I might need to go home before you guys get into any more mayhem—”

“Nonsense, Alera! Sit down,” Margo chuckled. “We’re not doing anything crazy. We take the piss out of each other like this all the time.”

“Indeed!” Lulu chimed in.

_Pop._

“NO, CHICKY! You _obnoxious_ little b—”

“You said it yourself, Margo! We take the piss out of each other all the time!”

“Oh, for the love of Merlin! Get this crap off my robes right this instant! And Falcon, stop rustling your feathers! You’re getting that shit everywhere! Sheena, stop enjoying that!”

The group had dissolved into giggles by this time, as Chicky had indeed sprayed Falcon with a massive surge of glitter. The bird was now gleefully fluttering his wings, spreading the bright pink sparkles all over the room. And us. By the time Margo had gotten him back upstairs and secured him in his cage, her entire living room was shimmering.

“So much for not doing anything crazy,” I drawled, shaking a spot on my robe that was now covered in glitter. The pesky substance would not come off. “Chicky, could you have at least made the glitter blood red so it would match my aesthetic better? The Dark Lady does not wear pink.”

“Now she does,” Chicky taunted. I whacked her arm.

Sheena laughed so hard, she snorted. And to Margo’s dismay, the rest of us weren’t that far behind. Our amusement at her discomfort only enraged her further.

“You realize this won’t come off for days, right?!” she snapped. She appeared mildly amused, but she’d rather chop off someone’s head than admit it. She was angrily swiping her hands all up and down her robes, while yelling at Chicky, futilely trying to get rid of the glitter. That only made us laugh harder. We’d seen this spectacle so many times before, and I figured Margo would do well to just accept Chicky’s mischief as part of the package.

“Chicky, seriously—you need to remove the glitter from my person right now. I look bloody ridiculous. You’ve done this too many times and it’s extremely annoying.”

“Actually, it makes you look even less like a Death Eater than you already do. You can hide in plain sight this way! I’m helping you. In fact—Alera, what say you ask your dear husband to reward me for aiding Margo’s disguise?”

I stared her down with a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me smirk.

“Speaking of my husband, I really should be getting home to him. We’re getting up early tomorrow to do some research, and I need a good night’s rest.”

“Ooh, that sounds exciting!” Lulu exclaimed. “What kind of research?”

“There’s a series of Dark spells we’ve been working with lately, but they can be a bit...explosive sometimes; so we want to see if working outdoors makes it safer. One of the spells in particular is the most potent right after sunrise.”

“Wow! I can see why he’d want you home soon, then,” Margo replied. “Well, glitter notwithstanding, this was a lovely evening.” She gave me a hug as I stood up. The other girls followed suit. After a round of hugs and giggles and promises to visit again soon, I bade my friends good night and Disapparated.

As I traipsed back into the house with a patch of pink glitter illuminating my robes, I smiled at the realization that for the first time, I belonged somewhere. I had finally surrounded myself with like-minded individuals who enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed theirs, even before I’d taken on the responsibility of being their master’s wife.

I was happy. Truly happy. I felt peace.


End file.
